All I Wanted Was You
by CharlotteBlackwood
Summary: Not a songfic! This is my first FW fic, so be nice! A quiet girl struggles in a time of war to tell her best friend she loves him, but will it be too late? FW/OC, canon, r&r!
1. Chapter 1

Emma was sitting in her compartment, casually flipping through a book she would have normally been devouring. Right now, she couldn't concentrate. She would be seeing Fred and George after a long summer apart. Typically, they made time to come and see her for her birthday, but this summer, they weren't staying at home. That was all they could tell her, they said, and they wouldn't be able to see her, but they sent her thoughtful and sweet presents and while she had been disappointed, she wasn't mad. Everything had changed with Cedric Diggory's death. The _Daily Prophet_ could say all the crap it wanted, but she had met Harry Potter several times, and he didn't seem like a disturbed, fame-grubbing maniac. What's more, Fred and George believed him, and that was all she needed to believe herself. You-Know-Who was back.

Before she had time to dwell on the horrible ramifications of this, Fred and George came into the compartment she had saved for their group, talking excitedly with Lee Jordan, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson.

"-And then you take the other end, and all the bleeding stops!" cried Fred triumphantly as he threw the compartment door open and his eyes fell on hers. He was discussing Skiving Snackboxes, of course, one of Fred and George's inventions for the joke shop they hoped to found once school was over. Fred's eyes lit up when he saw her. "Emma! Happy belated birthday, Miss Norwick, so sorry we had to miss it."

He slid into the seat beside her and threw and arm around her shoulder, beckoning Katie Bell to the other one. The motion would have made Emma happy and flushed, had he not included Katie. Of course, he was just being smarmy. Typical Fred. Meanwhile, Angelina sandwiched herself between George and Lee. To Emma's untrained eye, it appeared that there was something very real going on between her and George. Good. Ever since Angelina had gone to the Yule Ball with Fred, Emma had liked her far less, but if she was dating the other twin…

Of course, the jealous was not only petty and immature, it was just pointless. Emma had been helplessly taken with Fred for years, but it didn't matter. Not only would such a wonderful boy have any interest in her (his own taste was certainly for the more glamorous, more exotic specimens like Anglina and Katie), but Fred didn't date. Lee joked that the boys were married to their jokes, and it could be true.

"How was the birthday without us, Emma?" said George, settling into his window seat. "Horrifically boring?"

Emma gave him a wry smile.

"Undoubtedly, George, you've guessed it," she drawled. "I was awake in a cold sweat for a week, so troubled that you hadn't been there."

They all laughed. Of course, it hadn't been a big deal. Emma hadn't minded. Emma never minded. Emma was just a little Ravenclaw, who never got competitive, or jealous, or upset. She was cool and logical and would certainly never stay up in a cold sweat over a problem any less pressing than world peace itself. What lovely mental boxes her friends put her in. Too bad they weren't true at all.

Yes, she was a Ravenclaw. Yes, she was logical and calm. But she still got competitive and jealous and upset, especially where Fred was concerned. And that was completely illogical of her, but she couldn't help it.

"Who wants to take bets on the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Lee eagerly. "I figure, we've had two Death Eaters, a werewolf and a fraud since Harry got here. There's got to be something exciting."

"Maybe another Death Eater?" said Katie anxiously.

"Nah, I'm sure Dumbledore's upped his security screening after last summer," said George. "How about a vampire?"

"Maybe it'll finally be Snape," Emma suggested over her book.

The heads all snapped to look at her and she looked around at their faces.

"What?" she said defensively. "It's bound to happen eventually. Dumbledore's going to run out of not-so-reasonable candidates. Personally, I want the werewolf back."

"Yeah, he's pretty cool," said the twins together, with a grin at Lee. There was something they weren't saying. They hadn't put that in the past tense. Had they seen Professor Lupin over the summer?

The rest of the train ride passed with games of Exploding Snap (Lee's eyebrows were properly singed) and everyone swapping stories of their amazing holidays, except for the twins. They said nothing other than that their joke shop was really coming along and they expected all of us to sign up to be testers for their products. In Emma's opinion, anyone who would willingly sign up for that would have to be crazy.

The boys chivalrously went elsewhere to change (one of the nice things about being a Gryffindor), and came back with stories of the prank they just pulled on a compartment of unsuspecting first years. Emma rolled her eyes and laughed with the rest of them, settling in next to Fred again, book in hand, but she wasn't reading. She was soaking in this moment with her friends, a moment of laughter and mirth in the impending war.

When the train finally arrived at Hogsmeade station, the six of them climbed onto the platform and made their way to the carriages, where they all packed into one carriage. It was a tighter squeeze every year, and now that they were in their seventh year and the boys were at their prime, Emma found her body sandwiched between Fred and the wall of the carriage. It was slightly uncomfortable, she had to admit to herself, but her entire left side was pressed against his right side, and to alleviate some discomfort, his arm was dangling around her shoulders. A little piece of Emma couldn't find anything wrong with the seating at all. In any event, Angelina had a much tighter squeezed, locked between George and Lee.

They arrived at the castle and rushed inside, Emma joining the Ravenclaw table and her companions filing into the Gryffindor one. Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe sat beside Emma, but Emma looked over at her Gryffindor friends, wishing, not for the first time, that the Sorting Hat had been mistaken and that she was braver than she was; wishing she was a Gryffindor. Fred caught her gaze and winked, causing her to blush furiously and look down as the other students filed in.

Hagrid wasn't at the staff table, which made Emma frown. She loved his Care of Magical Creatures lessons, not because he was that great of a teacher, but because she and the twins appreciated his sense of adventure and danger. She had learned lots of things from Hagrid, if not things that she had used on her O.W.L.s. Not to cross a manticore with anything, for example. That was a very important life lesson.

The Sorting Hat's song was very different this year, but she didn't really listen. She never listened to the song. It wasn't a topic of discussion in Ravenclaw. They had far more interesting and important topics to discuss, such as the meaning of life and the origin of magic, and all those academic things. She spent the feast ignoring and avoiding all such talk, glancing over at Fred every now and again. He winked at her once again, this time with a bit of a smirk. She was stroking his ego. That was never a good thing. Dumbledore stood, and the hall fell silent.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students — and a few of our older students ought to know by now too."

Emma thought for a moment of the time Fred and George had talked her into going into the forest with them. She had almost gotten eaten by a giant spider. They actually had gotten detention for that one, because Hagrid found them, which had turned out to be lucky, because he called of the spiders. Emma never thought detention would be a good thing, but her tears of relief turned into tears of shame when she was actually in detention. Fred had held her for a whole hour after they got out of detention, calming her and soothing her, telling her it wasn't her fault and how sorry he was he had gotten her in trouble, that he had put her in danger, and swearing he'd never do it again. It had been so perfect, being in his arms, and he had held true to his promise. He didn't get her into trouble or danger ever again.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a smattering of polite but uninterested applause across the hall, which died down as quickly as it ought to. Emma didn't applaud. She wasn't happy that Hagrid wasn't there, however good of a teacher Grubbly-Plank was, and she didn't like the look of this Umbridge woman. Emma might not be a fashion expert, but did that woman really think that was a sweater?

Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the —"

He paused and looked around at the toad-faced woman in pink. She cleared her throat in a deliberate manner, and Emma realized that the toad-faced woman in pink was about to speak. Or croak. It would be an interesting revelation, whichever way.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Toad-Faced Woman in Pink simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

Her voice was not a croak, most unfortunately, but fit in more with the sickeningly-pink sweater she was wearing, high and girly, like a six-year-old with excellent grammar and diction. It was a bit disconcerting.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

Emma raised an eyebrow. Happy? Where? She didn't see the happy. Unless this woman was using a previously unknown definition of the word happy, Emma thought the woman must be blind. It would certainly explain the outfit.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Emma's eyebrow shot up even higher and she saw Fred and George breaking out in fits of silent laughter. Well, at least it was silent this time. It probably wouldn't go over well, laughing at the new Professor of Toadiness during her first, and hopefully last, speech.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Emma had never seen Professor Flitwick look so angry. Why did that little man look angry? Nothing upset him, no matter how many times they accidentally knocked him off his stack of books, or sent him zooming around his classroom, that man was always good-natured. Now, he looked anything but.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation . . ."

At this point, it became difficult to listen to, not because the speech got any worse (it was all quite terrible), but because nobody else seemed to be listening. Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecomb had begun chatting vibrantly, and they weren't the only ones. Luna Lovegood, who had settled herself on the other side of Emma, was sticking her nose back into her copy of the Quibbler, and Fred and George were making faces to amuse the first years. Fred caught her looking at them again, and made one at her, and she giggled in spite of herself. The face wasn't funny at all. She had seen him pull it dozens of times. And yet, somehow, from across the crowded Great Hall, she couldn't help but giggle at the thought that he had made it just for her, and the sight of her giggling made him smirk. She had to stop stroking that ego.

". . . because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

Dumbledore continued his speech as normally after a clapping round led by him, followed reluctantly by the teachers, and not observed at all by the students on behalf of Professor Toady-Wartface's speech (Okay, she didn't have warts that Emma could see at this distance, but she _ought_ to. Perhaps Emma should suggest it to the twins…). Emma saw Fred and George readying their fliers for the Gryffindor common room at the end of the speech, preparing to put them up as soon as they got to Gryffindor Tower. She gave them a little wave as the Great Hall stood up, and headed off to Ravenclaw Tower.

She didn't expect them to walk with her. They had to get their password, after all, and they had notices to pin up and the like. She wandered off to the Ravenclaw Tower, getting in behind Luna Lovegood, who never needed to wait for someone else to answer their question. She was a question-answering fiend. As Emma stalked off toward her dormitory, exhausted, she felt someone grabbed her arm and saw a boy from her year smirking at her.

"Well, well, Miss Norwick," said Roger Davies, a boy in her year, and the Ravenclaw heartthrob. Quidditch Captain and all that. He went to the Yule Ball with the Beauxbatons champion, actually, which Emma didn't really hold to his credit. He was so taken with the girl that he tripped over his own feet multiple times.

"What, Davies?" she said, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

"Just wanted to know when you developed your little crushy-poo on Weasley."

"What?" she gasped. "What are you even talking about? _Who_ are you even talking about? There's a lot of Weasleys, you see."

Roger smirked.

"I was hoping you could tell me. You see, all I could tell from where I was sitting was that it was one of the twins."

"Whatever," said Emma, shaking her head. "You didn't see anything, Davies, because nothing was happening. The twins are my friends, and there's no crush. I'm going for a walk. I'll be back by curfew, in case you were thinking of alerting the prefects or something."

Emma wandered around, and before she realized where her feet were taking her, she found herself standing right outside Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady looked down at her.

"Ah, Miss Norwick. A bit late at night for a wander on the first night?"

Emma shrugged, knowing she was blushing.

"I got into a bit of a conflict with someone in my House and I started wandering, and I ended up here, I guess."

"Always do, dear," said the portrait with a wink. "I'll bet it's the magnetic pull of a certain red-head?"

Before Emma could attempt to deny it, which was silly, really, lying to a portrait about her love life, or lack thereof, the portrait swung open and Fred and George were standing there, with Lee behind him.

"It _is_ Emma, guys! Hey, Emma, a little early in the year for sleepovers, yeah?"

George grinned at her. She grinned sheepishly back.

"Well, I didn't intend… I mean, that is to say… Well, I had a bit of a friendly disagreement with… oh, but it doesn't matter. How is everybody?"

"Better now you're here, love," said Fred with a wink and a grin, which made her heart flutter. If she didn't know he just talked like that with everybody, she would have felt like the luckiest girl in the world. As it was, she knew better.

"Nice flier," she said, crawling into the common room and nearly tripping over the portrait hole. Fred caught her and pulled her to her feet, but he didn't let go. He just hugged her, thanked her, and led her to an armchair, where he, to her shock, settled her down on his lap.

"Why, thank you," he said. Emma could feel the eyes of their friends on them, but Fred didn't seem to notice. "So, who did you fight with?"

"Davies," she said with a blush.

"That idiot?" said George, handing her a butterbeer. How did they get stuff like that so quickly into school?

"He's not an idiot," Emma said honestly. Well, he wasn't. He was a Ravenclaw, after all.

"What was it about?" said Fred, before taking a sip of his own butterbeer.

"Oh it was just… it was… never you mind."

"Ah," said Lee knowingly. "You were debating the meaning of life and it got heated."

"Something like that," Emma muttered. And it was. They had been talking about Fred, after all. What did it really matter if she was abusing the stereotypes of her House? Telling the truth wouldn't change a thing anyway, except maybe alienate her from her best friend. From where she was sitting, lying was a much better option.


	2. Day Two

Emma could have cut all the tension at breakfast with a knife, and a sharp one at that. All eyes were on Harry Potter, who was trying his best to eat in peace, poor thing. Of course, none of the eyes stayed on him too long, as they were all afraid of being caught staring. Angelina went off to track down Alicia Spinnet and tell her about the trials for Keeper, as Angelina was the new Gryffindor Quidditch captain and Oliver Wood's spot needed to be filled.

"Will you be going to the trials, Emma?" said George, handing the marmalade to Lee.

"I suppose if I'm not busy, though I can't imagine why I'd go," said Emma. "After all, you guys are all already on the team, and I don't know anyone who'd be going for Keeper."

Professor McGonagall was making her way down Gryffindor table with the class schedules and Emma looked over at the Ravenclaw table, spotting Professor Flitwick doing the same.

"I'll be right back, guys," she said. "I need to get my schedule."

By the time she got back, Fred and George were frowning, and not sitting exactly where they had been before.

"What's up?" she said, grabbing the pumpkin juice and pouring herself another glass.

"Granger's trying to get on us for trying to use firsties for our testing," grumbled Fred.

"It's not as though we aren't testing everything on ourselves first," pointed out George.

"It's perfectly safe," they chorused.

"But she doesn't seem to think so," added George.

"And now she's trying to drag ickle Ronniekins on our case as well, bloody prefect," growled Fred.

"Oh, yes, I heard that Ron got a badge. Tell him congratulations from me, will you?" said Emma loftily, which earned a pair of identical snorts.

"When pigs fly," spat Fred.

"As if he needs encouragement," said George.

"Mum already thinks he's brilliant," said Fred.

"A little replacement for their lost Percy," said George dryly.

Emma shrugged. She knew they wouldn't like that Ron was a prefect, but this seemed a little bit harsh. After all, it was clear to anyone with eyes and half a brain that Ron was not shaping up to be anything like Percy, and the very thought of Ron disciplining anyone who actually deserved it, much less his own brothers, was laughable beyond that which Luna Lovegood spouted. Yet the way they regarded his badge, it was as though he had somehow committed some act of ultimate treachery and betrayal, and the only way to even the score was to make his life hell with torment, which, admittedly, they did anyway.

She didn't have any classes with the twins that day, so she simply drifted from class to class, ignoring the smirks of Roger Davies and pretending as though she wasn't daydreaming of Fred the whole day. They had lunch as a group, and Angelina talked about people she thought might try for Keeper while Emma read a book. Every once in a while, however, her eyes drifted upward and examined Fred for as long as she dared, taking in his finely sculpted face, his perfect features, his gorgeous blue eyes against that adorable gingered hair, and that smirk that said he was up to something, as he always was. Her heartbeat would quicken every time she looked him over, and when she couldn't take it anymore, or when she sensed he might look her way, she immediately dropped her eyes back down to her book. It wouldn't do for him to catch her looking at him.

But he did anyway. At dinner that night, she sat at the Gryffindor table, and she stared just a moment too long. He was sitting directly across from her, which made watching him an even finer art, and one which she hadn't quite mastered. He caught her looking up at him and his smirk deepened. She saw his twinkling eyes wink at her before she looked back down at her book in embarrassment.

Of course he winked at her. It was what he did. Fred was a winker. It didn't mean anything, other than he was perhaps pleased that she had done something that so obviously boosted his ego.

The following day at breakfast, the twins were in poor spirits, and Emma asked, quite foolishly, what was wrong. She got the whole gruesome story.

"… and then Granger pulled out the stops on us," groaned George. "Either we got more creative about testing on first years, or she writes our mum."

A collective shiver passed through the group. The thought of Mrs. Weasley's reaction to the information that her sons were testing their products on helpless, gullible children was a terrifying one. Suddenly, and idea sparked Emma.

"I'll do it," said Emma, rather softly.

"Do what?" said George casually, buttering his toast.

"I'll test your products," she said, strength building in her voice. "I'll do it for free. Granger can't get mad about that!"

"No," said Fred so sharply that they all looked around at him. "There's no way I'm letting Emma test our products."

"You let me test them," reasoned George with a smirk, "and we know they're not dangerous by the time we bring in other testers."

"No!" Fred cried, slamming his fork down on the table. "Something could go wrong! We could make a mistake! No!"

"You sound like Granger," muttered Lee, earning him a potent glare from the angry twin.

"If you don't want me involved in your joke shop," said Emma softly, "you could just say so. You don't have to make a scene."

Fred's mouth flopped open and closed a few times and she sighed, setting down her fork and gathering up her bag, seeing Angelina smack Fred on the back of the head as she got up and glided out of the Great Hall. She heard footsteps following her up the marble staircase and turned at the top to find George a few steps behind her.

"I apologize for my twin's stupidity," he muttered. "Maybe we can work out some sort of arrangement."

Emma shook her head sadly.

"There's nothing to apologize for," she said simply, "but I won't get involved without Fred's blessing and I'll have to get it from him, since I wouldn't put it past you to lie to me for the sake of the shop."

George just shrugged sheepishly.

"For the good of the shop…"

"I'm not saying I blame you," said Emma with a laugh. "Anyway, I've got Arithmancy. I'll see you at lunch, George."

George nodded thoughtfully as she took off up the corridor.

On her way to lunch, mind still lost in Ancient Runes, Samantha was pulled into an empty classroom by a strong arm before she realized what was happening, and the door was closed and locked behind her. She found herself looking up into Fred's face, and she wasn't sure why, but a completely unwelcome blush crept into her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I overreacted at breakfast and I shouldn't have. It's just… I don't want to put you in danger."

"You put George in danger," she pointed out, as George had done earlier.

"But George is different," he sighed.

"How?" she said, taking a seat on the nearest desk, looking up at him defiantly.

"Because," he snapped.

"Freddie," she sighed, "we've got one year left and then there's a war out there. You treating me like a piece of china isn't going to make me safer when I step out of the walls and into the real world. We'll all be targets."

His blue eyes looked at her sadly, shaking his head slightly.

"Emma, please just don't…"

"Don't what?"

He sighed, pacing the room in front of her.

"I don't know, okay?" he said, aggravated. "It's like, I look at you and I see that eleven-year-old girl who tricked me into eating a Cockroach Cluster and then I blink and you're seventeen, and you're this precious flower and if something were to happen to you…" He stopped in his tracks as his sentence trailed off into the air, staring at the wall before turning to her with the same sad eyes. "Emma, please just let me keep you as safe as I can?"

She wanted to say no. Her pride as an independent woman, as instilled in her by her mother, wanted her to tell him to shove it, that she was helping George whether he liked it or not, but that look in those sweet blue eyes melted her heart as it always did and she nodded numbly, wishing he would come just a little bit closer, even if not close enough to reach out and touch.

"W-we should probably go to lunch, Freddie," she said softly, "before they send out a search party."

"Who would send out a search party?" he said with a little laugh, before they exchanged a dark look and said together, "Tien."

Tien Vo was Emma's favorite Ravenclaw. They hardly were together outside of classes and the Ravenclaw Tower, as Tien could only handle human contact for so long, and Emma valued her Gryffindor time greatly, but Tien always wanted to know where Emma was and what she was doing. Tien was slightly paranoid, but it was all a part of her charm.

"Reckon we ought to eat with her today?" said Fred absently, wringing his hands together in anxious anticipation. He was a bit afraid of Tien, and Emma didn't blame him. She had a tendency to be a bit nasty, and hadn't spared Fred at all when she found out Emma had a crush on him.

"Well, I ought to check in," she said thoughtfully. "Tien's not in Ancient Runes and I rather think she will want to see me."

"Right then," he said, leading the way down to the Great Hall. "To the Ravenclaw table we go!"

As soon as they go to the Great Hall, Fred gave George a sign that they were sitting at Ravenclaw, and George winced. If Tien was nasty to Fred, she was positively revolting to George, but he got up from the Gryffindor table and followed them over to Ravenclaw, sitting next to Fred, across from Emma, who had just sat down next to a trim, pretty Vietnamese girl who glared at the twins, but then turned to Emma with an eager grin.

"How was Runes?" she said excitedly. "Did you translate anything disgusting?"

"If texts on ancient social practices of warlocks in Finland are disgusting," said Emma, "then I suppose."

"Positively revolting, darling," said Tien with a knowing nod.

"The most revolting, dear!" said Emma, and the girls giggled together.

"How have your classes been going, Tien?" said Fred politely, putting on the best face Emma had ever seen from him. Tien glowered at him anyway.

"Fine. How's life with three classes?"

"Spectacular," said the twins with a shared grin.

"More spectacular than line dancing with the giant squid?" countered Tien antagonistically.

"N-no," said Fred, looking slightly put out. "I can't imagine so. Have you gone line dancing with the giant squid?"

"No," said Tien loftily, selecting a sandwich. "But I will someday. It's on my list of things to do before I graduate."

George opened his mouth, probably to ask what else was on the list, but Emma shook her head at him discretely and his mouth snapped shut again.

"Ooo, perfect," said Tien excitedly, rubbing her hands together as she eyed the entrance to the Great Hall. "My favorite target."

Fred and George turned quickly to see who was more hated than them, and Emma just smirked, picking her own sandwich out. She already knew who the unlucky victim was. Cho Chang.

"Just look at that tramp," muttered Tien. "She thinks she's queen of the world because she got asked to the Yule Ball by two of the champions, never mind that the one she went with picked her as his _second_ choice, or that he's _dead_. And he was alright, too." That sentence caused the twins to share an incredulous look. She never said such things of people. "And then there's the fact that Davies asked her out. As if that means a thing, he asks out everything on legs. Even asked me out once."

"What happened?" chorused the twins eagerly.

"She stabbed him in the thigh with her butter knife," said Emma dryly, but it was the absolute truth. There had been blood everywhere.

"Ah, that's what that was about," said Fred.

"Beautiful," said George, shaking his head in awe.

"Yes, it rather was," said Tien, grinning. "Anyway, where was I?"

"Being asked out by Davies is nothing," said Emma, who had memorized the whole spiel while putting on her makeup that morning.

"Right, so she has this thing for Harry Potter, because he's been getting all this attention and is the only person with a half-way decent reason for her boyfriend being _dead_. And the poor boy can't even keep his eyes in his head when she's around, and it's not even like she's pretty. She's just cute, I guess, because her hair is always just right and has no real personality – the hair I mean, she's got one, but it's horribly dull – and her clothes are always just so, but that's not really saying much, as we've all got uniforms, haven't we? So anyway, that girl's going to play the victim card, for sure, and get in with Harry Potter within the term, but I'll bet it doesn't last long. She won't put up with him."

"How so?" said Fred conversationally, though Emma could tell he was thrilled that she was picking apart someone other than himself.

"Ah, well, you see, Harry has real issues in his life. I mean, there's a psycho bent on world domination and eternal life trying to kill him, isn't there? That's a serious problem. Cho's biggest problem is what shade of lip gloss to put on in the morning. She and her idiot friends have no way to really understand what he's going through, and the second something minor comes in the way of whatever it is she wants at the moment, they're going to split faster than Marietta Edgecomb's ends."

"She curls her hair every morning and gets dreadful split ends," said Emma as an explanation.

"Anyway, I feel bad for the boy, 'cause he thinks he really does like her."

Fred and George nodded solemnly.

"You know," said Tien thoughtfully, "I like you two better now. I might upgrade you."

"To what?" said George.

"Well, you're a nasty now," said Tien, "but your twin is almost on human status. Right, Emma? That's the right one?"

Emma's eyes widened as she nodded, looking down at her plate and praying she wasn't blushing, but George looked at her with a raised eyebrow and Fred frowned.

"Why's his status lower than mine?"

"Because he's lower on Emma's totem pole, duh!" said Tien, as if everyone in the world used her logic. They didn't. Emma was the only one who even remotely understood it, and even she was unsure precisely how it worked. However bringing Emma into the picture certainly piqued the twins' curiosity.

"Oh really?" said George with a smirk, and Emma's blush deepened as she realized he knew what was going on. "How much higher?"

"Fred, how's the Ravenclaw team looking this year? Think we can beat Slytherin?" said Emma swiftly, desperate to change the direction of the conversation.

Fred blinked at her.

"Probably," he said, giving her a very curious look.

"Ch-charms next," she stuttered out. "We should probably go. Don't want to be late for Flitwick."

"Right," said George with a wide smirk on his face.

Emma grabbed her bag and sped out of the Great Hall toward the Charms corridor, and George was next to her halfway up the marble staircase.

"Oh, this is going to be fun," he said in a low voice, so that Fred didn't hear them. "How long has this been brewing?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," she spat, a little less smooth than she would have hoped.

"Oh, I think you do, Emma dearest, and I'm on your side, so don't push me away."

And with a wink and a nod ever so slightly in his twins direction, George picked up his pace and caught up with Tien, who walked incredibly fast for a petite Asian girl, and asked her for an abbreviated version of her thoughts on Roger Davies, which she was only too happy to oblige. Meanwhile, Fred caught up to Emma.

"Hey," he said softly. "What was that all about?"

"Oh George is trying to covertly get me to test the Snackboxes," she said, which was true, but not entirely honest, and her cheeks flushed.

"You know," he said even more softly, "you look really good when you blush." He kissed her cheek softly and walked off toward Charms, leaving Emma standing in the corridor, staring after him for a moment, touching her cheek where his lips had just been and wondering if she hadn't just imagined that.

There was no mention of anything unusual all through Charms, where Emma and Tien sat practicing Disillusionment and Fred and George sat doing the same.

"So you never told him you liked him?" said Tien, finally.

"Of course not!" hissed Emma, blushing.

"Well, no wonder you two aren't dating, then. Or shagging, at the very least. The sexual tension between the two of you is so intense I was expecting it to explode during lunch and find you two suddenly devouring each other on the table in the middle of the Great Hall!"

"Ew," groaned Emma. While the idea of being devoured by and devouring Fred wasn't altogether unappealing, the rest of the scenario was far from appetizing and she shook her head vigorously, attempting to clear it of such horrible thoughts.

"Well, you best be getting on it soon, or your man candy shall be gobbled up by others," Tien said pointedly, nodding toward Alicia Spinnet, who was watching Fred rather obviously from the other side of the room. Emma flinched. Why did she have to fall for the absolute best catch in all of Hogwarts?


	3. Foolproof Romance: Dungbomb

Emma wandered down to the Great Hall for dinner that night with her mind full of all sorts of varied thoughts. What if Fred found out that she liked him, and laughed in her face? Or worse, what if he felt awkward being around her and decided not to be friends? And what was George going to do or say? Somehow, she imagined that the fun he had mentioned would not be for her benefit. There was no way he was going to find a way to get her and Fred together, he would just make things awkward between them for his own enjoyment. She was sure of it.

"Hey, Emma," said George, who was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, by himself. She frowned.

"Are we eating here tonight?" she said.

"Yup," he said with a grin.

"Then where's everybody else?"

"When I say we," said George, his grin widening, "I meant you and me. Sit, Emma, we've got lots to talk about."

Emma bit her lip. There was a maniacal tone to George's voice that almost never boded well, and she didn't like the idea of not having dinner with Fred, but then maybe she didn't want to eat with Fred just now, when she was so confused about everything. Granted, eating with just George wasn't much better of an option, but it was the only one she had.

"Fine," she said, keeping her face as straight as possible. "What's with you and Angelina?"

George, who had just taken a swig of pumpkin juice, spluttered and coughed, glaring at her.

"We're talking about you, not me," he growled. "Let's get that straight right now."

"Fair's fair," she hissed back. "If we're talking about me, you're fair game."

"Fine," he spat. "You first."

"All right," she said, patiently buttering a roll. "What do you want to talk about?"

"How long have you fancied my brother?"

"Since first year. How long have you fancied Angelina?"

"Since this year. When were you planning on telling him?"

"Never. When were you planning on telling her?"

"Eventually. Never?"

"Never."

"Why not?"

Emma sighed.

"Because he doesn't want me and he never will, George. I'm the lofty little Ravenclaw, remember, George?"

George frowned and said, "I don't think you're right about that, Emma. I think Fred actually likes you but just hasn't really thought it over yet. I know he thinks you're attractive."

Emma dropped the butter knife.

"How?"

"We _have_ slept in the same room our whole lives, you know."

"So?"

"So I know every fantasy he's ever wanked off to."

There was an awkward pause.

"You know, George, you could have put that in a way that wasn't so bluntly disturbing."

"Aw, I thought you appreciated that," he said with a wink. "You are besties with Tien, after all."

"It's completely different coming from you."

"Is it?" he drawled. "Or is it completely different when it's about you? More specifically, about Fred moaning your name as he–"

"George!" Emma cried, blushing.

"Well, he does."

"That's definitely not appropriate dinner conversation."

"Where would you rather we discuss this?"

"How does nowhere sound?

"I have a plan."

Emma winced.

"Well, that's never a good thing."

"Pish posh," he snapped. "My plans are always good things. Brilliance. And all that. Anyway, this one's fool-proof to get you with my twin."

Emma considered him with narrow eyes, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Why are you getting involved?"

"Because," said George with a shrug, "I think I see a spark between you two and I want happiness for my twin. Plus, you're way cooler than Alicia."

Emma winced again.

"So what exactly does this plan involve?"

George lit up.

"Okay, so we'll need a Dungbomb, three nose-biting teacups, a length of chicken wire, and six spoons."

Emma blinked.

"Please tell me you've got a different plan."

"Why?"

"Because no plan that has to do with setting two people up should have the word 'Dungbomb' in it, period."

George looked thoughtful for a moment, then winced and nodded.

"Okay, second plan. Involves you in Gryffindor Tower, a pinch of jealousy, and the sexiest outfit you own."

Emma blinked again.

"That might be difficult."

George frowned.

"Why? I mean, I know that we can't guarantee the jealousy, but I know my twin pretty well, and I suspect that the necessary pinch shall be quite simple to arouse."

"No, not that," muttered Emma, looking around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. "It's just that, well, the sexiest thing I own is probably my uniform."

"Oh," said George, frowning deeper. "Well, that settles it, I'll be right back."

George jumped to his feet ran over to the Gryffindor table where the girls were sitting, whispered something in Katie Bell's ear, whose eyes grew large before a grin formed on her face and she nodded eagerly. She followed him back over to the Ravenclaw table and sat down, fishing something out of her bag along the way.

"I'm sure I have it with me George, don't worry," she said with a smile. "Ah, here it is."

Katie pulled out a magazine and pushed it at Emma with a grin.

"Go ahead, Em, tell me what you like. I own just about anything in it, and if there's something I don't own, we can get it in a matter of days."

Emma frowned, wonder what was in the magazine, and then when she opened it, her jaw dropped. It was a lingerie catalog. George smirked at her expression and the three heads moved closer together over the pages.

"I think something green would suit your complexion really well," said Katie thoughtfully. "Or perhaps blue?"

"Fred loves blue," said George. "Go with that."

"All right, blue it is," said Katie. "Now, let's think of materials. I'm thinking sheer, lacy, or mesh of some sort…"

"Nothing too scratchy," said George. "Fred really liked Angelina's dress robes last year. What were those made of?"

"Silk of some sort, I think," said Katie with a frown. "Ah, what about this one, it's a silky blue negligée with blue lacy panties? I think he'd like those."

George grinned.

"I agree," he said. "No bra."

"I actually have this one," said Katie. "The chest might be a little tight, but if you're accentuating the fact that you're not wearing a bra, that might work to your advantage. When do you want it?"

"Tonight," said George, "if that's okay, or as soon as you can get it."

Katie smirked broadly.

"Tonight. And I'll do her up all nice for him, too."

"Great," said George. "Be sure Lee's in on it. Spread the word around, sleepover in our dorm. Bed sharing."

"Got it, Georgie. And I'll make sure Angelina's all pretty for you, too," she added with a wink as she slipped the catalog back into her bag, watching George's mouth flop open and shut a few times before taking off to where her friends were sitting.

"She carries that around in her book bag?" said Emma incredulously.

George simply shrugged as he cut his steak.

"You'd be surprised at what Katie carries around in that thing. Okay, now here's the deal, we're doing a sleepover tonight. You're going to come over, go straight to Angelina's room, and Katie's going to dress you up. Then you'll come in, Lee and I are basically going to go on and on about how hot you look, and ask who's the lucky man that gets you in his bed, and you'll be all coy and blushy and say you don't really care, but look at Fred and stuff a lot, which shouldn't be hard because that's what you do anyway, isn't it?"

George winked.

"I suspect he'll be aching to have you in his bed, and if he doesn't man up and ask himself, I'm going to suggest it, and I'll push you into his bed myself if I have to. You two will be sharing a bed tonight if I've got anything to say about it!"

Emma blinked.

"You do know we've got classes tomorrow, yes?"

"Yeah, yeah," said George with a shrug. "It's just a sleeping sleepover. No drinking games or anything like that. This is just to get your bodies next to each other."

As much as Emma would have liked to hide her blush, she couldn't. George just chuckled in the most maniacal manner she could have imagined and took a drink of pumpkin juice.

"See you at eight sharp," he said with a wink when he drained his goblet, and he took off for Gryffindor Tower.

Emma went back to Ravenclaw Tower to get some homework done before she had to go meet George at the portrait of the Fat Lady at eight. She sat down to her Arithmancy homework, but it all blurred before her eyes, and images of herself in the ensemble George and Katie selected swam before her eyes, taunting her maddeningly… her lying on a bed, her lying on a bed next to Fred, her lying on a bed under Fred… she blinked. Tien was smirking at her.

"What?"

"Your lesser twin wanted me to remind you eight o'clock, and don't be late!"

"As if I could forget," grumbled Emma. "Did you finish Arithmancy?"

"Of course not," said Tien. "I was having far too much fun working on my monologue about Looney Lovegood. It's gotten quite long. Would you like to hear it?"

In a panic, Emma glanced down at her watch, hoping… praying…

"Uh, sorry, it's seven forty. I've got to get going or I'll be late. But keep practicing! I'll listen tomorrow, okay?"

"Have fun looking sexy!" Tien shrieked after Emma as she was leaving the common room, and Emma's cheeks glowed crimson with embarrassment. She knew, she just knew, that every head in the common room had turned to watch her go. Tien was so paying for that later.

Emma now found herself standing outside of Gryffindor Tower, looking up at the Fat Lady once again, who gave her a knowing smirk just as the portrait swung open to reveal George Weasley, grinning at her eagerly.

"Right on time!" he cried, pulling her into the common room, and pushing her toward Katie Bell, who was giggling with Angelina over something Lee had said. "All right, ladies, you know the deal. You have until nine. We'll be waiting."

And with one last wink from George, Katie and Angelina dragged Emma up to Angelina's room, where everything they would need for that night was awaiting them. Katie tossed the skimpy pieces of fabric at Emma and ordered her to change. Feeling rather self-conscious, she did so as Angelina and Katie discussed what they were going to do with Emma's hair over their own changing efforts.

"I'm thinking really natural makeup," said Katie.

"I never thought I'd hear you say those words, dear," said Angelina, putting on her own lip gloss.

"Well, never for me," she said with a laugh, "but Emma's got such lovely natural beauty and you know how Freddie goes wild over girls who look like they've just rolled out of bed. Oh, sex hair. That'd be perfect."

"No," said Angelina, shaking her head. "Too much, lest you want him to think our little Emma is a tramp out for a one-night stand."

"Fair point," said Katie, slightly deflated. "No matter. It curls so nice naturally, we may not have to do a thing with it. Now, Em, hold still. I'm going to put a dab of lip gloss on you, and I'm going to apply just a dab of mascara. You really shouldn't need anything else, and this stuff is charmed so it doesn't rub off when you sleep."

Angelina choked with laughter.

"I can't believe you bought that mascara, Katie! That stuff is designed for people who sleep around!"

"Um, hello, have you seen my closet?" snorted Katie. "My life is designed for people who sleep around."

The three of them laughed.

Was Katie a slag? Of course not. Did she enjoy acting like one? Absolutely. Katie, oddly enough, was actually a virgin, and if you weren't one of her five favorite people, you would never know. Emma just happened to be lucky enough to be one of those people, so she got to hear all about Katie's lack of actual sexual history.

"All right, now I'm going to get you some slippers and a matching dressing gown," muttered Katie, "and I think we'll all be good to go. That is," she smirked, "if Angelina's done with her hair."

"Yeah, yeah, almost done," pouted Angelina. "Have we decided who's got the other two?"

"You're with Georgie," said Katie, sifting through a pile of shoes and slippers. "I'll take Lee."

Katie tossed a pair of slippers at Emma, slid a pair on her own feet, and grabbed a couple of nude, sheer dressing gowns, handing one to Emma and slipping the other on.

"All right," she said, "we're ready to go when you are, Angelina!"

One more lip gloss touch-up later and the girls were heading down to the boys' dormitory, where George was waiting to let them in. The three girls filed in, each taking off their dressing gowns as they crossed the threshold, Emma in the back. When she took off her dressing gown and handed it to George, Lee and George's jaws dropped to the floor, and not in a way that looked at all forced. She could see Fred behind them, his eyes wide, drinking in the outfit his brother had picked out for her.

"Merlin's balls, Em," moaned Lee. "You look good enough to eat!"

Fred smacked him on the back of the head.

"Second that," growled George. "Which lucky guy gets you in his bed tonight?"

Emma thought George might luck out of getting a smack, but then he wiggled his eyebrows at her and Fred's hand whipped out and backhanded the conniving twin. If anything, this seemed to encourage George, who smirked deeply.

"I think Fred ought to have her," said Katie swiftly, "since he's the only one who seems capable of keeping his eyes in his head."

"Great idea," said Angelina with a smile. "I call George."

Katie smiled flirtatiously at Lee, whose jaw had yet to leave the floor.

"Guess that means me and you, Lee, baby," said Katie, grabbing him by the arm and leading him off to his bed. Angelina did the same with George, who looked as though he were in heaven. Fred and Emma stood awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment, Fred obviously trying to decide if he was allowed to look at her or not, until he finally motioned her toward his bed and she crawled onto it, him followed her and drawing the curtains around the two of them.

Emma couldn't believe this was happening. She was in Fred's bed, with Fred, wearing practically nothing. They were turned on their sides, facing each other, as Fred pulled the covers over them.

"You look really great, Em," he whispered breathily, which was a strange sound for the ever-sure Fred Weasley.

"Thanks," she said, searching for something clever to say. Nothing occurred to her, so instead she blurted out, "Alicia likes you."

"I've noticed," he chuckled.

"Oh," she said, blushing. "Then why aren't you dating?"

Fred just shrugged and said, "She's not really my type."

"I didn't know you had a type," she whispered, feeling incredibly upset with herself that she couldn't think of anything better than that.

"Neither did I," he remarked with a snort. He looked at her strangely for a moment, then moved a little bit closer to her. She bit her lip nervously. He was very, very close to her now. "I really do think you look great," he whispered, "but I never understood why you girls get all dressed up before going to bed."

Emma felt like her brain was mush. He was too close. Or was he not close enough? It was impossible to tell anymore, but she could tell he expected her to say something, so she said, "Well, we have to wear _something_ to bed."

Something flashed in Fred's eyes as he looked down at her, moving just a little closer.

"You hardly are," he muttered, reaching out hesitantly and running a hand along her silk clad side. She suppressed a shudder and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she saw him biting his lip, closer than ever.

"W-we should p-probably get some sleep," she gasped. "Classes in the morning."

He stared down at her for a moment before nodding, taking his hand away from her side and rolling onto his back. Emma stayed on her side, carefully watching him sleep. She had just about dozed off herself when she heard a soft moan.

"Emma."

She blinked and sat up a little. Fred had just said her name.

"Oh, Emma," he groaned, reaching out and pulling her tightly to him.

"Y-yes?" she whispered, but he moaned again, and she realized, he was dreaming. It hit her what he must be dreaming about when he ground against her.

"More," he gasped, and she could actually feel his hardness against her stomach as he ground against her. Part of her was in horrified shock, but another part of her was in bliss. Fred was dreaming about her. So maybe it was just because his last sight before he went to bed that night was her in stripper clothes. At that moment in time, Emma couldn't have cared less what the reason was. Fred Weasley was dreaming about her, Emma Norwick, and she had all of their friends on her side. Gazing down at his sleeping face, sighing as he ground into her even harder than before, grasping her side and pulling her closer to him Emma couldn't help but agree with George. This was going to be a lot of fun. It was really too bad it was a school night.


	4. The Morning After Sort of

The following morning, Emma felt someone watching her, just before she felt someone running a hand lightly down her side. She shivered. Her eyes fluttered open and found themselves looking up into a beautiful pair of indigo eyes, watching her intently, as though she would disappear at any moment.

"Good afternoon, Emma," he whispered softly, and it took her a moment to realize exactly what he had just said.

"You mean good morning," she corrected, stretching her arms sleepily. He shook his head.

"It's half past two in the afternoon," he whispered, his eyes still drinking her in hungrily.

"WHAT?" she shrieked. "You're joking. I'm halfway through Potions? Oh, man there's no way I'll make it in time. Snape's going to kill me!"

"Relax, Em," he whispered softly. "It's going to be okay."

"Snape hates me," she moaned. "There's no okay about this! How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough," he said cryptically, smiling.

"Ugh, there's really no point in my going to class, is there?" groaned Emma, rolling over sleepily, and unintentionally rolling right into Fred.

"N-not really," he muttered, and she thought she heard him inhale deeply behind her, and she certainly felt his arm wrap what she was sure was instinctively around her waist, pulling her even tighter to him.

Just as his fingers began brushing along a patch of skin that was revealed where the negligée was riding up, his curtains whipped open, and George was standing over them, smirking.

"Fancy missing dinner, too, while you're at it?"

"George," she moaned, "this idiot let me sleep all day and I missed all my classes!"

"Good job, Freddie, now she's not going to sleep with us tonight!"

"What?" Emma and Fred chorused, staring up at George.

"We all had so much fun last night we decided to do it again. I recommend you make it down to dinner, Em, because Katie's anxious to chat with you." He looked down at the pair of them and frowned. "You know, I'm a bit disappointed in you, Fred. Something that delectable in your bed for nearly an entire day and she's still got her very small amount of clothes on."

"Wow," muttered Fred. "George really has got guts, hasn't he?" muttered Fred as he rolled out of bed, searching through his trunk for his robes.

Emma stretched.

"Yeah, he's something else," she muttered with a yawn and a nod.

Fred looked up at her, his mouth open to say something else, but he froze, his eyes looking her up and down in the ensemble George and Katie had picked out. She blushed a little, then remembered what he had said the day before about her blushing, and blushed even more furiously in spite of herself.

"I know that's Katie's outfit," he said softly.

She blinked.

"How - ?"

"She wore it to the Gryffindor N.E.W.T. student Halloween party last year. It was the award winner. I'd know it anywhere. George absolutely loved it. He was one of the judges, actually.

Emma almost laughed. She wondered if Fred knew George had effectively picked it out for her. Had George been saying what Fred would like to see her in, or had he been thinking of himself all along? At any rate, it didn't matter. She wasn't sure exactly what George was expecting of Fred, but he certainly hadn't jumped her, if that was what George had had in mind.

Emma finally made it down to dinner, and Katie ushered her over.

"Oh Merlin, Em, we have so much to talk about!" squealed Katie. "I think that went really well. The way Fred looked at you…" Katie sighed. "Magical. Now, for tonight, none of us have classes before noon, so we're thinking of a full sleepover party, okay? And don't worry, I'll get you up tomorrow when I leave so you don't miss your classes again. Snape's glaring daggers over here."

Emma groaned, completely horrified that she had missed all of her classes, and even more horrified knowing she would get at least one detention from it. It didn't matter that she'd had six years of perfect attendance. Snape didn't care. Unless she had been unconscious in the hospital wing, she didn't have a good enough excuse to miss his class.

"Yeah, thanks for that. You could have taken me with you when you got up, you know," said Emma bitterly, stabbing her toast with the butter knife.

"No, I was not going there," said Katie earnestly. "I had no idea what state of undress you two might be in and I was in no mood this morning for a surprise like that. Lee was rather handsy last night." She sighed heavily. "The things I do for you two."

"Whose idea was it to do this two nights in a row?" said Emma. "I will have spent more time this term in Fred's bed than anywhere else in the castle by the time we get to breakfast tomorrow morning."

"Don't pretend to complain about it," said Angelina with a snort. "We all know you like it there."

Emma just gave her an annoyed look, but Katie laughed musically and said, "Well, Emma, dear, it was collaboration between me and George. We've decided that the more you two are around each other, the sooner Fred will get his act together. And this night has been planned more carefully, so we'll have more control over your interactions. Did he touch you last night?"

Spitting her pumpkin juice everywhere, Emma looked at her friend with shocked eyes.

"I'm sorry, did he what?"

Katie dabbed the juice off her face calmly and said, "Touch you. I'm sure you know what I mean."

"Fred is a gentleman," said Emma, wondering whether or not she should tell them about the dream he had. She decided on not.

"So's the lead singer of the Weird Sisters," said Angelina with a sigh, "but it doesn't mean he's not human."

"We get it, Angie, Yule Ball was the best night of your life," said Katie coldly. "Let's move on to the matter at hand, shall we?"

Angelina shrugged and smirked, obviously nonverbally gloating that she hadn't been sprayed with pumpkin juice. Katie pretended fairly convincingly not to notice this attempt at nonverbal gloating, and would have seemed to truly have not noticed at all, if it hadn't been that she missed when attempting to kick Angelina in the shin and hit Emma instead, who howled in pain just as Fred and George sat on either side of Katie, who blushed, embarrassed at having missed.

"You're bloody lucky you play Quidditch with your hands and not your feet, Katie," groaned Emma, "because Gryffindor would lose every time if it was the other way around."

"Poorly aimed kick?" said Fred with a wink. "Now, now, Katie, who were you trying to kick?"

"It's none of your business," said Katie coldly, "and if I hadn't hit your precious Emma by mistake, you wouldn't even care, you'd just be laughing."

There was a tense silence for a moment, as Emma held her breath, George and Angelina exchanged a worried look, and Fred just looked confused. The game was up. Katie had all but told Fred about her crush on him, and now nothing would be the same. He wouldn't want to share a bed with her, and he probably wouldn't want to be seen with her. It was tragic.

But Fred didn't do anything which would indicate disgust, horror, or even awkwardness. He simply shrugged and said, "Well, what can I say? Miss Norwick is a frail and wondrous flower that we must protect. It's our duty as Gryffindor men to defend."

Emma frowned. She wasn't lacking in bravery, and her only conclusion as a first year as to why she hadn't been Sorted into Gryffindor, like all of her friends, was because she was completely abject to the entire concept of chivalry. She might be female, but as far as Emma was concerned, she didn't need a man defending her honor. After all, she did quite well on her own. Still, when Fred said such things, it was so very difficult to be upset with him for it.

"Anyway, Em," said Katie, picking absently at the peas on her plate, "try and be a half hour earlier tonight, since we're doing games and stuff, too. I want us to have enough girl time beforehand."

"What does girl time involve, exactly?" said George through a mouthful of roast potatoes.

"You know how absolutely luscious Emma looked last night?" said Katie with a wink, looking right at a blushing Fred.

"Do I ever," said George with a grin after swallowing hard.

"That's what girl time involves. We get ready to give you boys a show. And you have to admit, Emma was hot."

"Smoking," said George with a wink at Fred.

"Absolutely steamy," quipped Angelina.

It was then that Emma realized they had planned this, in some form. Emma wasn't the only one uncomfortable with the direction of conversation. Fred looked incredibly awkward as well. However, the conversation ender was not one Emma was happy about, as Alicia Spinnet sat down next to Fred and smiled with one of those Katie-Bell-patented smiles that just oozed flirtation. Emma bit her lip and picked at her own food.

"Hey, Alicia," said Angelina. "I've been meaning to ask you about that move you used in practice this morning. What's it called?"

"Oh, I'm not sure," said Alicia in a sickeningly sweet voice. "It's just something Freddie taught me last fall."

Was it even legal to bat your eyelashes that viciously? It certainly couldn't be healthy. Perhaps that was why the girl didn't notice that the mood had darkened considerably with her presence: she was blind due to over-fluttering of the eyelashes. Emma silently prayed it wasn't contagious, because she never, ever wanted to look that obviously desperate, and she was rather fond of her eyesight.

"Have you decided what you're going to do for the first Hogsmeade weekend, Freddie?" she sighed.

Fred blinked. Emma blinked. The whole table probably blinked simultaneously.

"Um," muttered Fred awkwardly, "not really, it's in October."

"I don't have plans yet either," she pressed on, undaunted by the fact that her friends were all regarding her as though she was one Gobstone short of a set. Maybe she was. "Maybe we could do something together!"

"Uh," said Fred stupidly, clearly not happy at all with that idea. It was written plainly all over his face.

"Oh, gosh, look at the time!" said Katie earnestly. "Freddie, you and I have some business to attend to before we get caught up in the festivities. You promised to help me with Charms, remember?"

"Right," said Fred with a firm nod. "Absolutely, Katie, let's go do your Charms."

Alicia looked incredibly disappointed as Fred and Katie rushed out of the Great Hall. She turned to the remaining three and pouted as Lee came out of nowhere and took Katie's recently vacated spot.

"Hello, ladies. And George," he added with a smirk. "Why the long face, Alicia?"

"It's Freddie," she sighed. "I think I've figured out why he hasn't asked me out yet."

They all stared at her for a moment. Emma wondered if Alicia was smarter than she had given her credit for. Had she finally realized that he wasn't interested?

"Why's that?" said Lee, piling potatoes onto his plate as if potatoes were going out of fashion.

"He's obviously sleeping with Katie."

Emma spit her pumpkin juice all over Alicia, her eyes wide with horror as her friends stifled their snickering. Alicia blinked up at her with shock and embarrassment painted all over her face. Being the gentlemanly Gryffindor he was, George cleaned off Alicia's face, though he nearly lost his struggle not to laugh.

"And what on earth makes you think that?" said Angelina, carefully examining a plate of cookies before her.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" said Alicia with a sigh, as though talking to a five year old. "I mean, she's always trying to keep me away from him, she runs off with him while the rest of us are doing something else, and a little bit before dinner I heard her quizzing him on his favorite types of fabric and styles of panties. They have to be sleeping together." She lowered her voice and leaned in slightly, looking around as though making sure no one else was listening. "I mean, I love her to death, but she is a bit of a slag."

This time, Angelina's pumpkin juice went spraying, right into George's face, who laughed good-naturedly and wiped his own face off, while shaking his head.

"You're way off base, Alicia," said George with a sympathetic air. "Firstly, if my twin was sleeping with someone, I'd know. Secondly, if Fred was sleeping with someone, our whole dorm would know. Thirdly, they go off and do other things because he's the only one good enough to tutor her out of her abysmal Charms hole she dug for herself. Fourthly, Katie asks everybody questions like that. She's asked me several times about lingerie and even sex toys, but we're certainly not sleeping together, nor have we ever. And fifthly, Katie's a virgin, not a slag."

Alicia blinked.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Sure about what?" said Emma airily. "He just presented five points."

"I'm sure about all of them, Alicia, as are all of us here," said George comfortingly.

And with that, Alicia sniffed loudly and sulked off out of the Great Hall. As soon as she was gone, Tien rushed over from the Ravenclaw table with a frown on her face and sat down next to George.

"Where were you today?" she hissed. "Did you spend all day in that boy's bed?"

Emma nodded numbly. Admitting such things to Tien was dangerous business.

"How was the sex?"

"There was no sex," hissed Emma, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"Snogging?"

Emma shook her head, looking down at her peas.

"Please don't tell me you spent all day _sleeping_?"

Without looking up, Emma merely shrugged. They boys sniggered and Angelina giggled.

"Well," said George thoughtfully, "we've got to step up your game and get you two snogging soon, before my idiot twin gives Alicia a pity date. Once a girl like that gets her claws in you, it's tough to get them out again." Lee and Tien nodded solemnly.

"I know a spell," said Tien with a sly grin.

"I'm not using that spell that forces everyone to say what they think about the person," moaned Emma. "I don't want to hear all about how flat-chested I am from Katie, or a long monologue about how Fred still sees me as an anxious first year waiting to be Sorted."

"Wait, you have a spell that does that?" said George eagerly, looking at Tien as though he might kiss her, and probably considering doing just that. "You have to teach me, we could make some awesome joke products with that!"

Tien smirked and said, "Only if I get seventy percent of the profits. There's a potion, too, and it's a little different, makes it specific to two people. A lot of Chinese people use them to make proposals less painful."

George looked just about ready to kiss her this time.

"Twenty-five."

"Sixty."

"Thirty."

"Fifty."

"Forty."

"Forty-two and a half."

George blinked.

"Deal," he sighed. "You drive a hard bargain, Miss Vo. So do you have any of this potion on hand that we could slip dear Emma and my foolish twin brother?"

Emma groaned.

"Well, I have some, and I was going to use it to enhance a lunch-time roasting session of Cho Chang, but I suppose helping out my only friend is a decent cause. They better be shagging like bunnies by the end of the month, though, or you are going to have to brew me a whole cauldron full on your own time."

"Not a problem," said George with a devilish grin, shaking her hand. "I've only got three classes, I've got all the time in the world! Besides, Miss Vo, I think you and I could be very beneficial to each other. I'm not saying the word 'friends' yet, because I feel as though we're not quite there, but partners in crime has certain potential, and a lovely ring to it, don't you agree?"

Emma groaned again. It was as though her worst nightmare was coming true. She had just lost all control of her love life to three of the four most devious people in the school. Ah, well, at least there were no Dungbombs in this plan.

George followed Tien and Emma back to Ravenclaw Tower, where they made a small switch, George slipping her a few Galleons and Tien slipping him what Emma was sure was two vials of potion, and Tien whispered in his ear what were probably instructions for use. It was going to be a long, long night.

George led Emma back to Gryffindor Tower, with her things this time, in case Emma overslept again. He took her bag up to his dormitory and she headed straight to Katie's room, where Angelina and Katie were already getting ready.

"Emma!" squealed Katie. "I think we've made progress. I asked Fred some questions I think will help with the outfit choice for the night, and I mentioned your outfit from last night and he turned pink instantly. The boy's clearly smitten."

Angelina giggled and tossed a sexy, pale pink negligée at Emma, with a pair of lacy black underwear and pointed at a sheer white dressing gown. With a sigh, Emma changed, allowed Katie to straighten her hair and Angelina to dab lip gloss on her lips. When Katie declared her prepared, they headed over to the boys' dormitory. Lee opened the door, ushered them in, and handed Emma a drink instantly. She looked across the room to see George and Fred drinking firewhisky. George's wink said it all. Emma looked down at her firewhisky and saw that the top was off. They were being drugged. Essentially.

With a resigned sigh, she took a long drink of the burning amber liquid and stepped into the room, taking off the dressing gown after Katie and Angelina took of theirs. As soon as it hit the floor, Fred gasped, dropped the bottle he had been drinking out of and whispered, "Emma, I love you."

The whole room froze.

**A/N: Hehehe, cliffhanger. I know, I'm horrible. Shout-out to **_**stardiamond94**_** who says she likes this story! If you review, you might get to see your user name in an author's note too! Big dreams, I know. What should happen? Let me know what you think Emma should do!**


	5. So It Begins

**A/N: Oh my gosh, last night this story just exploded with appeal. **_**Jennie68**_**, I see you've deactivated private messaging, so in response, I'm glad you like Emma. She's not easy to write, but I think she's turning out worth the struggle. I'm not like her at all, you see. We all really miss Fred, don't we? Thanks so much for alerting, reading, etc. I hope this chapter meets satisfaction of all my readers! Review, please!**

"I love you too."

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying, and Fred looked as shocked as she felt. Emma began to shake violently, horrified that he hadn't actually said a thing and she had just imagined it all, but then she saw George push him toward her and he took her hand in his trembling hands and kissed it.

"Game time," said Lee quickly, obviously eager to move passed any awkward emotional moments. Before either of them had a chance to say another word, their friends pulled them into a rousing game of Exploding Snap. The distraction was in name only, as Emma and Fred were willing to do little else but stare longingly at each other.

"At least they're doing it openly now," muttered George, just as the deck exploded.

All night long, Fred and Emma simply watched each other. Just before bed, Katie decided they ought to tire themselves out with dancing, so George turned on the wireless and the other four began to dance wildly. Emma and Fred just watched each other. Angelina kicked Fred forward and he pulled Emma to her feet, wrapping his arms around her and swaying to the music, their eyes still locked longingly.

"You look beautiful," he breathed in her ear. "You always look beautiful."

Emma felt as though she was in some kind of dream. Fred had his strong, fit arms wrapped around her, and he was whispering sweet words into her ear. She had never hoped for such a wonderful reality. Before the music had even stopped, the others had all tired and decided to go to bed, but Fred and Emma were still swaying to the music, whispering words they had always thought, but never had the courage to say out loud.

Finally, George turned off the wireless and Fred and Emma looked at each other, wondering what to do next. Her heart was beating so wildly she thought she would explode. This all happened so quickly. Before she could say a word, slow things down, back away, Fred pressed his lips gently to hers, and the thought of slowing things down seemed absolutely ridiculous.

He led her back to his bed, smiling goofily down at her, crawling into the covers beside her. Gently, he brushed a lock of her hair out of her face and his thumb lingered on her cheek. Thinking he was going to kiss her, Emma's heart began to race, but he did not. His cheek pressed to hers, he whispered, "I love you Emma. I've loved you so long."

He kissed her forehead and wrapped her tightly in his arms. For the first time in a long time, she couldn't tell the difference between her beautiful dreams and her beautiful reality. She wasn't sure what was better, being awake and knowing Fred was holding her, loving her, or being asleep and actually interacting with a Fred who loved her, and not only loved her but was willing to admit it without the influence of a potion.

Emma awoke the following morning far earlier than she would have liked. At first, she was upset because she was incredibly tired and didn't want to be awake, but as her eyes fluttered open, she found herself looking up into the incredibly handsome face of Fred Weasley, who was running his fingers through her hair lightly.

"Good morning," he breathed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

She couldn't help but smile as she sat up a little. He looked so incredibly adorable, like he was thinking deeply. Thinking deeply? Fred? Wait a minute, that couldn't possibly be a good thing…

"What time is it?" she muttered, unable able to think of anything better to say.

"It's five," he muttered back. "What happened last night?"

"Uh, well, we slept over," she breathed back. "Um, what exactly are you referring to, Fred?"

"I think I said some things last night that I… I don't know. I wouldn't have said aloud usually."

For a moment, Emma's heart sank, but then she realized he hadn't said he didn't mean them, only that he wouldn't have typically said them aloud. Perhaps she still had a chance. Well, now was no time to shy away. After all, the cat was already out of the bag.

"I love you, Fred," she breathed, barely a whisper, and their eyes locked, his filled with something unreadable. Her heart clenched with fear. She knew he loved her, the potion never lied, but she didn't know if he was willing to act on it, even knowing how she felt. Tears of panic were forming in her eyes, but before a single one fell, Fred did something he hadn't done under the influence of the potion.

Carefully, nervously, cautiously, he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to hers, both of them frozen like that, not moving, barely breathing, as if both wondering if this was still a dream of some sort, if they were to pull away, what terrible things might happen, like waking up. She could feel his heart beat as wildly as her own.

Then, as if deciding they were truly awake, they began to move, their fingers caressing every inch of the other's bare skin they could reach, their lips molding together, traveling all the planes they had seen so often for seven years but never had the pleasure of truly knowing, of touching, of experiencing like this. Emma ran her nails down his solid back and thanked every higher power she could think of for Quidditch. He sighed a little as she did so and he feathered his fingers up her legs. She moaned into his mouth, opening her own just enough for his tongue to sneak in, finding its way around the new territory she had afforded it. She wasn't upset at his boldness. She was craving more of him, pleased he wanted her, completely unconcerned with anything but the glorious feel of Fred.

All too soon, the curtains around the bed were pulled open, and the two of them parted swiftly, blinking up at their intruder.

"Well, well," said George, a wide grin on his face. "It's about bloody time, you two."

Fred threw a pillow at his twin, who promptly shut the curtains, and then turned back to Emma, an unreadable look in his bright eyes. His rough hand gently caressed her face and she found herself leaning into his touch.

"How long?" he whispered. "How much time did we waste pretending there was nothing there?"

She didn't answer, simply closed her eyes as he traced a heart along her cheek with his calloused thumb. He was right; they had wasted years, not saying the words they should have said and denying the fact they felt anything at all beyond friendship. The only ones they had fooled were each other and themselves.

"It's a war out there, Emma," he sighed, leaning forward to kiss her neck gently. "The Ministry might not have their stupid eyes open, but whether they've figured it out yet or not, the world is changing."

"Is that why we couldn't see you this summer?" she breathed, trying to focus on their conversation and not the delicious warmth of his tongue on her neck. "Was it something to do with Harry Potter?"

"Mmmhmm," he mumbled, suckling her neck languidly, as though all he had to do that day was taste her flesh and make her melt. Emma bit her lip, holding back the moan that was building up inside of her. "I can't tell you anything now, but I hope someday you'll be in on all the secrets. I'm not losing you now that I finally have you."

Her eyes sprung open and she realized they hadn't made any promises, agreements, or arrangements and here she was, lying in his bed wearing Katie's lingerie and enjoying the feel of his mouth on her skin. If her parents could see her now she'd be grounded for the rest of her life.

"What are we, Fred?" she whispered, moving her hand to his head, intending to push him away from her neck but losing heart as he began nibbling the place just below her jawbone. Instead, she ran her fingers gently through his soft red hair. "Am I yours?"

He kissed where he had been nibbling once and pulled back from her neck, looking into her eyes thoughtfully.

"Do you want to be?"

She said yes before she realized the word was even forming in her mouth. His proud grin could have blinded half the school, it was so brilliant, but then he leaned back down, biting and sucking her neck in a way she knew was going to leave a mark. It was too high to cover with her uniform. He was showing the world that Emma Norwick was his.

"We have class," she sighed. "We can't miss again today. Professor McGonagall would kill us both."

"We have time," he said, pulling away from her neck at last and smirking when she whimpered at the loss of his hot breath on her skin. Fred reached forward and gently brushed a lock of her hair out of her face, shifting his body closer to hers.

Before she had a chance to point out that that time was fast slipping away, Emma found his lips pressed against hers once again. They didn't really have to go to breakfast, she thought. After all, they didn't have classes until after lunch. Suddenly, there were things she would much rather do than go to breakfast. Snogging Fred, for one thing. After all, they didn't have class until after lunch.

When they came up for air a few minutes later, they were both too breathless to speak. They simply smiled stupidly at each other for a few moments, his fingers playing lazily with her lips.

"I've wanted to do that so long," he whispered. "I've been thinking about you for so long…"

Emma shouldn't have asked. These things were better left unasked, so one doesn't think about things one regrets, but somehow, they're often asked, and people like Emma always ask them.

"How long have you been thinking about me?"

He brushed circles thoughtfully into her cheek and contemplated the question for a moment before saying, "Maybe three years."

Three years… she had wanted him longer, but still, such a long, long time. Three years she could have kissed him like that. What a horrible waste of three bloody years. And yet it felt as though they had been like this all of their lives, holding each other, wrapped in each other's arms, hearts beating rapidly together. Not thinking about anything at all except how perfect the world felt, Emma laced her fingers through Fred's silky red locks and pulled his lips hard to hers.

To everyone's surprise, they made it to lunch on time, though admittedly hand in hand. Their friends gave them satisfied grins, Tien, George and Katie put their heads together and began furiously whispering, and Alicia Spinnet burst into tears at the end of the Gryffindor table.

"Hey, Emma?" said Katie sweetly as the pair sat down. "Angelina's got that Keeper tryout scheduled for Friday, are you going to come and watch?"

"Um," said Emma, running her fingers through her hair subconsciously, "yeah. I guess I'll go. Do we know who's trying?"

"I've got a list," said Angelina with a sigh, "but Harry can't be there. Umbridge wouldn't let him out of detention. What a bloody idiot, getting detention when I _specifically_ told him–"

"Angelina, give it a rest," said Fred firmly. "You're not happy, we get it, but that hag's got it in for Harry and she was just going to give him detention for something else if not that. I'd rather it was Keeper tryouts and not a game, wouldn't you?"

Angelina continued to grumble under her breath to herself, but the others just ignored her and discussed what they thought McGonagall would cover in class that day. Emma and Fred hardly participated in the conversation, instead holding hands under the table as they ate their lunch and stealing glances and trading grins.

The twins, Tien, Angelina and Emma made their way up too Transfiguration after lunch, Fred with his arm around Emma. They sat down in class, Tien the odd one out, as usual, as George slid into a seat beside Angelina. Emma saw Alicia sit across the room and glare over in their direction with red-rimmed, puffy eyes.

"Good afternoon, class," said Professor McGonagall as the bell rang. "As you all know, there will be no room for slacking this year. With your N.E.W.T.s on the horizon, and this being the most dangerous of subjects if treated with carelessness at even the most basic of levels, I do not request but rather demand that each of you takes this class incredibly seriously. Should you fail to do so, you shall be asked to leave and not return."

Emma was getting the strange feeling that she had heard this speech before. It did seem oddly similar to the one Professor McGonagall had given them their first day of class in their first year. It had been so long ago, Emma felt like an entirely different person. She was no longer the nervous, shy Muggle-born who hid in the back of the room praying she wouldn't make a fool of herself. She was top of the year, was friends with some of the most popular seventh years, and answered as many questions as she possibly could. She took pride at the end of each year, thinking of how many of the Ravenclaw points were due to her prowess in the classroom.

"We've got class with the hag after this," Fred hissed in her ear. Emma frowned and pulled her time table out of her bag. He was right. They had Defense Against the Dark Arts next. She slid the parchment back into her bag and stifled a groan. Too much pink for one day.

Somehow, Emma survived Transfiguration's lecture with Fred tickling her leg just below the hem of her uniform skirt and filed out of the room with her hand in his, following Angelina and George to Defense Against the Dark Arts and walking as close to Fred as possible without tripping over each other's feet.

When they finally settled down in their seats in class, Emma took out her book, a quill, some ink, and her wand. Many people around her did the same. It was a bit of a ritual for that class, as they had had a new teacher each year and no one ever knew what to expect.

When the squat little toad came into the room and caught their attention with her heinous little cough, Emma gripped Fred's hand under the desk. Harry already had detentions with this woman. It was the moment of truth.

"Wands away," said that sickeningly sweet voice that startled Emma. She was still expecting a croaking sound to come from that woman's mouth. "You won't be needing them in my classroom."

All twelve N.E.W.T. students exchanged disappointed looks. No good class ever began with those words.

Through the years they had had an incredible variety of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, from those sharing a body with You-Know-Who to professors who were secretly Death Eaters, and even a professor who was not only a horrible author, but a fraud at that. Emma hadn't had to worry about him very much, however, because she had been Petrified just days after Colin Creevey of Gryffindor and spent the rest of the year in the hospital wing. The only good professor they had managed to acquire turned out to be a dark creature once a month, who was a bit of a danger to the students if he forgot to take a potion. Which, as it happens, he did one month. Needless to say, he was gone the next day.

Emma wasn't sure what was going on in class. She was finding it hard to concentrate on the chapter they had been ordered to read. Fred was tracing shapes up her thigh and her stomach was contracting and expanding with his touch. He had a bit of a satisfied smirk on his face as she began to flush, and she knew he knew he was torturing her. Before she realized it was coming, a little moan escaped her lips. She hadn't had time to stop it.

Of course, everyone looked around at her. It had been completely silent and there wasn't a single person in that room who didn't know exactly what sort of noise she had just made. Emma blushed even more furiously and tried to lift the textbook to hide her face, but Professor Umbridge marched right over to her.

"Is there a problem, Miss–?"

"Norwick," Emma whispered. "No, Professor. Something in the chapter just reminded me of something I have to do later. I apologize for the disruption."

Fred could have done a better job of covering his snickering. It didn't sound like a cough at all, and Professor Umbridge raised an eyebrow at him.

"Something funny, Mr. Weasley?"

"Not something I think you would find funny, Professor," he said honestly, giving her a winning smile. She merely frowned.

"Perhaps, if you two can't manage to keep your thoughts on the chapter, I shall have to separate you."

Emma bit her lip and Fred shook his head.

"No, Professor, I don't think that's necessary, but thank you for your consideration."

There was no masking the snickering breaking out around the classroom. Even Emma had a hard time not smiling. Professor Umbridge's frown turned into a sickening smile and she said, very softly, in an incredibly cheerful voice, "Detention, Mr. Weasley, tonight, my office. How does seven o'clock sound?"

"Sounds like a time of the evening, Professor," said Fred, ignoring Emma's kicking him in the shin.

"Seven sharp then, Mr. Weasley. For every minute you're late, you'll receive another detention. I suggest strongly that you be on time."

As Professor Umbridge waddled away, Emma shot Fred an exasperated look and massaged her temples, turning back to the book in front of her and pretending to read it.


	6. Merlin's Bloody Balls

**A/N: To **_**missemilyfleur**_** who has disabled private messaging, updates are hopelessly sporadic on my part, I'm afraid, as I have about nine or so active stories I'm working on, and recently my parents left me home alone so I had to actually DO things (like wash dishes, feed my cat, get the mail, water plants) that normally they do whilst I sit around writing fan fiction. My apologies. Delay is unacceptable and I hope you do forgive me.**

Emma walked Fred to his detention and returned to Gryffindor Tower to await his return with George, watching George try to sweet-talk first years into taking some Puking Pastilles. She was sure his detention would only be an hour, two at most, but two and a half hours later, Fred returned to the Gryffindor Common room. Emma was staring at the dwindling fire and George was dozing in a nearby armchair.

"Fred!" she hissed when he came in. "What took you so long?"

"Sorry," he hissed back, sitting down next to her, glancing over at his twin. "I need to talk to you, babe."

"Right now?" she sighed. "Freddie, I'm so tired. Can't we just go to sleep?"

"No, Em, I need to tell you this now," he hissed, "and I don't care if I get in trouble. It's important and I need you to know."

She frowned. Whatever it was sounded incredibly serious. With only a moment's hesitation she nodded and allowed him to lead her out of the common room and down to a secret area behind the fourth floor mirror that had become their secret spot almost as soon as he had discovered it with George.

"What is it, Fred?" she moaned, allowing him to pull her onto his lap as he sat on the hard ground. "What is so bloody important?"

"There's so many things, I don't even know where to start," he sighed. "You know what Harry and Dumbledore are saying, about You-Know-Who being back?" Emma nodded. "It's all true."

"I thought it might be," she admitted sleepily, still wondering why this was keeping her up so incredibly late.

"Dumbledore's got a secret organization fighting him. My parents and brothers are in it, that's where I was all summer, at headquarters. I'm joining, Emma, when I'm out of school. I'm fighting him."

She nodded numbly. Emma hadn't expected anything different from him. Fred was a noble Gryffindor through and through, and he always had to be in the thick of things. Now that he said it out loud, however, she was suddenly realizing what that meant.

"Tell me more, please," she said hoarsely.

He wrapped his arms around her loosely, pulling her little body next to his and caressing her arms thoughtfully. He began to nuzzle his cheek against hers as he said, "Well first, Sirius Black is an innocent man…"

Almost the rest of the night, Fred told her story after story, fact after fact, challenging almost everything she knew about the war she had suspected was happening. Everything Emma had read in the papers was a lie. The only true sources of information were Dumbledore and Harry Potter. The implications for Fred were bad enough, but when Emma began to think of the implications for herself, for her family, she began to shake with fear in his arms.

"Are we all going to die, Fred?" she whispered.

He looked at her for a moment as if he was pondering the question very earnestly, a look she had never seen on his face even when doing homework. This was the serious side to Fred Weasley. With a deep intake of breath he tilted his head to the side a little and admitted, "We might. Some of us. Maybe even all of us. But it's better to go down fighting for the right thing than to do what's easy to save your own skin."

Of course, he was right, but Emma didn't want to think about losing Fred or having to fight for survival. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she wasn't a very good duelist. Fred, on the other hand, had a natural talent for it. With a heavy sigh, she shook her head, noticing that a tear fell from her cheek to his shoulder.

"I don't want you to not tell me anything, Fred," she whispered. "I need to be a part of this, a part of everything, even though it scares me. I think it scares me more not to know everything, though."

He nodded and gave her a sad sort of smile.

"I think it scares me too, but if you ever tell anyone I said that I'll deny it forever."

They laughed and talked for a while. He told her about Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and she told him about the car her father was working on for her. He told her about the Order of the Phoenix and she told him about Roger Davies's stuffed puppy that he slept with. It didn't matter that it was three in the morning when they said goodbye outside her common room. She didn't want the night to end, because somehow she knew that as soon as the morning dawned, the reality of their lives would come crashing down like a wave.

It didn't take long for the couple to work into one of those coupley routines. Much in their lives didn't change. After all, they already ate their meals together and passed most of their free time together. Now, they ate their meals off the same plate, passed their free time curled up together, and slept in Fred's bed virtually every night. It was the same all the time. She wasn't always dressed in Katie's sexy outfits, but Fred didn't seem to notice what she was wearing anymore. He spent most of his time looking her in the eye and grinning like an absolute fool.

Alicia began glaring at Emma everywhere she went. They had never really gotten on, but they had always been polite to each other. After all, it's not a crime to fail to understand somebody. But now, Alicia seemed to think Emma had swooped in out of nowhere and stole her man with one fell snog.

In truth, Emma and Fred had only just begun what could be classified as 'snogging'. Although their kiss were passionate, there was none of the hungry desperation or exploration that Emma would have associated with snogging until very recently, when Fred had pulled her into an empty classroom and kissed her, hard and demanding. The change of pace made her pleasantly dizzy and she responded in kind. The next thing she knew, instinct had taken over and when Fred pulled away, their clothing was disheveled from being pawed by eager hands, there was a bruise on her collarbone from Fred's eager mouth, and their faces and hair were looking incredibly like they had just ran through the Forbidden Forest backward.

"We have to do that again," he moaned, gasping for air. "Oh, Emma…"

Pressing his lips lightly against hers, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly.

"Keeper tryouts tomorrow," he hissed her ear as she settled herself on his lap. "You're going to come and watch?"

"Absolutely," she sighed. "Although you've left me rather worn out, Fred. I'm not sure I'll have the energy to make it all the way down to the pitch…"

"No?" he said with a devious smirk. "Not even to see me in my amazingly sexy Quidditch robes?"

"Mmm," she moaned. "They are rather sexy, aren't they?"

"Damn right, they are," he growled, kissing her deeply.

Emma went to the Gryffindor Keeper tryouts, and brought Tien with her, which was possibly the worst idea she had ever had. Her friend didn't bother watching the Quidditch; she had never liked the sport in the first place. Instead, Tien went on and on about Emma and Fred, about Cho Chang's outfit that morning, about Roger Davies and that blonde from Hufflepuff (Sarah? Kara? Tara?). Emma smiled politely and pretended to listen to her friend, but there was something far more important occurring on the field: Ron Weasley was trying for Keeper.

He wasn't the best candidate, that was certain, but he came from good Quidditch stock. His brothers were Beaters, and their older brother Charlie had been a world-class Seeker. Still, Emma's pick would have been Vicky Frobisher. She was a solid Keeper, a good flier, and had a good attitude. In fact, Emma had been so sure that was who Angelina would pick that she was already mentally preparing herself to give Ron moral support, keep Fred from teasing him, and congratulating Vicky as quietly and discretely as possible when Angelina made the official announcement that Ron Weasley would be the new Gryffindor Keeper.

Jaws everywhere dropped, including Ron's. Fred and George looked so stunned they were actually speechless. Tien rubbed her hands together mischievously until Emma shot her a warning look and she frowned, wanting so badly to tease him, surely. Vicky didn't seem surprised, and when Emma rushed down to the field, Angelina held up a hand to stop her from questioning.

"Vicky's over-extended commitment-wise," Angelina said, with almost a sad expression on her face. "She's brilliant, I know, but Ron will train up just fine. He's no Oliver Wood, but then, who is?"

"Oliver Wood," said Tien and George together, and Angelina's scowl just deepened.

"Shut up, both of you. Look, he's the best we're going to get so let's just make the most of it. Harry will be pleased, what with a friend of his being on the team. He won't be the baby anymore."

"No," said Fred with a little frown. "That'll be ickle Ronnikins now, won't it?"

"Fred!" Emma hissed. "Be nice. It's not easy being your brother, you know. He's had a lot to live up to."

"He hasn't got a prayer of being as handsome as me, love," Fred joked, "and the sooner he gets it through his head, the better."

Emma didn't go to the party to celebrate Ron's joining the Quidditch team. She wasn't, after all, a Gryffindor. Fred came to find her later, no doubt borrowing the Marauder's Map from Harry. She was in the Astronomy Tower, looking out onto the grounds.

"Hey, baby," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her. "Sickle for your thoughts?"

She sighed, leaning back into his chest, biting her lip.

"It's all real. I just can't wrap my head around the thought that there's really a war out there, and we're sitting here worrying about who made the Quidditch team and detentions. I mean, shouldn't we be training? Shouldn't we be learning how to fight?"

His arms tightened, pulling her closer.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he whispered in her ear. "I'm not going to let anyone touch you."

But they both knew they were just words. She was a Muggleborn, she was a target. He was a blood traitor, son of Order members… he was going to have to look out for himself, forget protecting her.

His lips found themselves on her neck, and she shivered at the sensation. It was as if a jolt of electricity came from them, worked through her body. A sigh escaped her lips as he dragged his own lips down her neck, slowly and torturously.

"Fred," she said, and it came out as more of a moan, which he replied to with a groan, holding her tighter, kissing her skin more intently. She could feel her legs weakening as his fingers explored her waist.

Barely able to control her own body anymore, she turned to face him, their breathing staggered, her lips eagerly pressing to his. His taste… he had been eating chocolate… she moaned into his mouth, and he pressed her into the railing.

She wasn't sure how long they were like that, hands groping at clothes, lips and tongues working madly against each other, hearts beating wildly, but she never wanted it to end. Somehow, they made it to the floor, her on his lap, bodies pressed so close together she thought they might melt into one. She wanted that, craved that, wanted to be closer, even closer to Fred.

His fingers were sliding under her shirt, working their way slowly up her abdomen as his lips began to slide down her neck once more. She gasped his named again as he carefully laid her back onto the cold stone floor. His hot, open-mouthed kisses on her skin were making her squirm as he pressed his body against hers. His tongue swirled a little pattern down to the valley between her breasts, as far as he could go with her shirt in the way and she sighed.

Suddenly, she felt him grind against her, felt his hardness on her leg, and she gasped, realizing what was happening. Things had gone too far, she had gotten lost in the sensations, and they needed to stop, now, before they both regretted it in the morning. She pushed him back.

"Wait," she managed to gasp, and his body froze. She could hear the strain in his breathing. "We need to stop. We can't do this here."

His eyes flew open and he sat up quickly, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"Oh, Merlin, Em, I'm so sorry! You're right, I got carried away. You deserve better than the floor of the Astronomy Tower."

A thought suddenly struck her, and although she was embarrassed to do so, she realized it was something she ought to ask, something she needed to know…

"Fred, have you ever… _been_ with anyone?"

"N-no," he muttered, turning a bright shade of pink. "George keeps telling me I should. And I honestly thought about telling you I had for a split second, to impress you, but I don't want to lie to you, Emma."

"Me neither, Fred," she muttered, knowing he would know what she meant. "I guess we should probably get to someone's common room. If a prefect finds us…"

He snorted.

"Or Umbridge," she snapped.

His face grew instantly serious and he bowed.

"Lead the way, m'lady."

She realized that he had never been to the Ravenclaw common room. Whenever they had hung out in someone's living space, she had always come to the Gryffindors. After all, she was the only Ravenclaw, and it made sense for her to come to them. Excited and a bit nervous, she led him in to the Ravenclaw common room, allowing him to take in all of the newness.

"Well," he said finally, settling on a couch and pulling her close to him, "this is one common room we won't be pranking soon."

"Why's that?" she said with a grin.

"Because, there's no way George and I can be sure of getting the question in enough time to properly pull off a prank."

Emma laughed and said, "I think you're forgetting, love, that Tien and George are getting to be rather close. I imagine if you made it worth her while, she'd let you in without hesitation."

He put on his thinking face and kissed her cheek.

"What do you think would make it worth her while?"

"Get Cho Chang? Or Roger Davies. Or both."

"Sounds like a plan!" he said cheerily. "I'll bet we can think of something."

But Emma was tired of hearing about pranks, Tien, and things that had nothing to do with her. Despite how much she adored Fred's pranks, she wanted his attention. Wrapping her arms silently around his neck, she pulled his surprised face down to hers and pressed her lips against his insistently. It didn't take very long for his surprise to melt into eagerness, and they began kissing as though they hadn't stopped in the Astronomy Tower. Her mind was so foggy that she wasn't sure exactly what she had done, but he moaned her name, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling them even closer together.

The heat of his body against hers was incredibly arousing, and she found herself wanting his hands to move from her back and explore the rest of her. As if to give him a bit of encouragement, Emma wrapped her legs around his waist, becoming as close to him as possible and moving against him, begging for more friction between their bodies. She had never been this close to a boy before, but she needed to be closer, needed to feel him closer to her, so that they could become one.

Apparently, Fred agreed with this sentiment and his hands found their way up her shirt. Had she been in her right mind, she might have been nervous or uncomfortable that his hands were exploring the skin of her torso, but her mind was misty, clouded, lost in the sensations that his fingertips brought: the burning desire for his touch. When his hands cupped her breast through the fabric of her bra, she moaned into his mouth, unable to help herself. She was putty in his hands.

Slowly, they explored each other, skin on skin, peeling away the layers of fabric that kept them from each other. Each new sensation brought by his fingers or his lips to various parts of Emma's body was pleasing, exciting, and maddening all at once. A fire was burning in her core and she didn't know how to put it out, not sure if she wanted to stop the delicious longing it brought. Delicious…

Fred tasted delicious. Every inch of his skin was like an unexplored delight for her mouth. Emma was glad that she wasn't the only one making sounds, moaning and gasping as they went about their exploration. Their naked bodies intertwined, needing closeness, needing that tingling sensation of heat that came with the friction of their skin moving against each other's skin. Their sounds became louder. Fred growled a little and Emma let out a long, breathy moan as he ground his stiff member into her own hot core.

Suddenly, someone sat up abruptly from underneath a blanket in the armchair in the corner.

"Oi, keep it down, will you? Some of us are trying to sleep! Ah! Emma! Weasley, who I'm guessing is Fred, considering the situation! Put some clothes on, will you? This is a public place!"

Emma groaned as Fred yelped, shielding her body from view with his own as he scrambled to find a blanket nearby to cover them both.

"Merlin's bloody balls, Tien, what the hell are you doing up at two in the morning in the common room?" he cried, pulling a blanket around him and Emma.

"I was up waiting for Emma and I fell asleep," Tien said frankly. Don't worry; I'll leave you to make yourselves decent. You have ten minutes."

With that, the petite Vietnamese girl took off up the stairs so that she was out of sight, allowing Emma and Fred time to put their clothes back on, at the very least. Emma silently cursed her friendship with Tien. It had been fun, especially as she didn't have any other friends in Ravenclaw, but when it came to her relationships with other people, Tien had ruined everything good that had ever happened. Fred seemed a bit miffed, but he chuckled a little, kissed her on the head and said, "Next time, love, I'll find a proper place where we won't be interrupted by either of our friends. I promise."

He didn't really seem to mind, and that made Emma incredibly thankful, and a bit excited as she realized there would be a next time. She and Fred would have those incredible sensations once more. She nearly shivered at the thought.


	7. The Hog's Head

On Sunday, the Toady McToadface had a decree passed naming her High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. It gave her quite a bit of power over the other teachers, and ensured that the year would truly be a living hell for anyone who didn't toe the Ministry line. The act was bold, but in such times bold acts often went unopposed, as did Educational Decree #23. The very idea of a High Inquisitor made Emma's blood boil, and she could tell her friends agreed.

On Monday, the seventh year Charms class was among the first to be inspected. Professor Flitwick took it well, treating the Toad like a guest, but Emma was internally seething. She read into all of the questions students were being asked about her head of House: Umbridge was trying to prove he wasn't fully human, which was pretty obvious to anyone with eyes. The man clearly was part dwarf or elf or goblin, something of the sort. But that shouldn't matter; he was still one of the best teachers in the school. He wouldn't have been around so many years if he wasn't.

"Miss Norwick," the Toad said, sickeningly sweet as Professor Flitwick continued his theoretical explanation, "you are in Ravenclaw House, is that correct?"

"That is typically what the blue and bronze necktie suggests, Professor," Emma said, rather cheekily than she typically would have, but matching the Toad's sweet-as-pie tone, making all of her friends listen to the conversation between her and the Toad, rather than the lecture.

"And Professor Flitwick has access to your dormitory?"

"I suppose he does."

"You suppose?"

"He's never been in there."

"That you're aware of, you mean?"

"No, I mean the closest he's been to our dormitory is the common room during emergent situations. I specifically ward the dormitory to collect the magical signatures of any intruders, that is to say people who don't live in our room, in case something goes missing. We had some thefts in my second year and Professor McGonagall suggested it to me. I've warded the room ever since. Professor Flitwick hasn't been in our room, and he doesn't know of the wards, so he hasn't taken them down or anything like that."

"How clever of you, dear," she said through gritted teeth. Emma wasn't stupid. The Toad was making him out to be some sort of half-bred pedophile. That was uncalled for. "What sort of emergent situations are you referring to?"

"Nothing the public isn't aware of," Emma said honestly. "There were the attacks on Muggleborns my fourth year, but all of the Houses were pretty much kept in their dormitories as often as possible and were spoken to in the common rooms several times. In my fifth year, there was the incident on Halloween with Sirius Black, but he contacted the Head Girl, who was a Ravenclaw that year, and she gathered us all up, the females, I mean. He took care of the males. It was more efficient. That's really been it, since I've been here. He doesn't really have much need for visiting us. I know Professor McGonagall has had to deal with excessive noise on occasion in the Gryffindor common room after Quidditch, but we don't have much trouble with that in Ravenclaw."

With that, the Toad must have realized she wasn't getting anywhere, because she moved on to someone else and tried again. Fred squeezed Emma's hand under the table and they turned back to the lecture, which was going on in Flitwick's usual cheery tone, as if he was completely unaware that a toad-faced demon was attempting to defile his good name. But Emma knew Professor Flitwick too well: He knew exactly what was going on.

It quickly became clear that Umbridge preferred inspecting during third year classes, probably because she enjoyed baiting Harry Potter, who was already on his second straight week of detentions with the psychopathic woman.

After several weeks of frustrations, both romantic and sexual frustrations with not seeing enough of Fred, and academic and ideological frustrations caused by the growing tyrannical reign of the monster who was Umbridge, Fred and George cornered her and the girls in the Gryffindor common room one evening with huge grins on their faces.

"You're going to love this," Fred whispered, "tell Tien, too. Granger says Harry is going to get together a group and teach defense, sort of an opposition to Umbridge and her lack of teaching, among her other many lovely attributes."

"Sign me up," Katie sighed. "Where and when? And should we tell Alicia?"

"Yeah, we probably should," George muttered. "I'll do that, she likes me better than you lot right now. Anyway, Hogs Head, next Hogsmeade weekend. Just come with us, we'll meet you outside Zonko's."

"Emma, are you coming with us to Zonko's?" Fred said softly, kissing her cheek.

"Only if we can stop at Honeydukes first, quickly," she bargained, pressing her lips to his.

"Your wish is my command, darling," Fred replied brightly. "Oi, George, you heard the lady, put Honeydukes on the agenda!"

On the day of the Hogsmeade trip, they made a quick stop at Honeydukes where Fred made a point of purchasing Emma four bars of her favorite chocolate, with caramel in the center. Then, they went to Zonko's with George and Lee. Emma followed the boys around the shop, barely paying attention to their purchases, holding Fred's hand.

When they made their way to the Hog's Head, it was suddenly full of student, obviously all meeting for the group Harry Potter was going to head.

"Hi," Fred said to the barman, reaching the bar first with one hand gripping Emma's and the other holding a bag full of Zonko's products. "Could we have… twenty-seven butterbeers, please?"

The barman, who had been cleaning a glass with a filthy washrag glared at Fred for a moment before tossing the rag aside and handing over dusty butterbeer bottles.

"Cheers," said Fred as he distributed them. "Cough up, everyone; I haven't got enough gold for all of these…" Emma instantly reached into her pocket with her free hand, but he muttered, "Not you love. Yours is on me. Go sit down, save me a seat, will you?"

When everyone had settled, in Hermione Granger said, "Er, well – er – hi." Her voice was rather higher pitched than Emma though it usually was, and most people were stealing glances at Harry rather than giving her their full attention. "Well… erm… well, you know why you're here. Erm… well, Harry here had the idea – I mean I had the idea – that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts – and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts" – "Hear, hear," said Anthony Goldstein, a fellow Ravenclaw, and Hermione became visibly less nervous – "well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands. And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory, but real spells–"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" interjected Michael Corner, another Ravenclaw, and a boy Tien definitely didn't like.

"Of course I do," Hermione said quickly. "But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because… because…" She inhaled deeply and then exhaled her next words, "Because Lord Voldemort's back."

Emma squeezed Fred's hand tightly, and he covered it with his other hand, rubbing it reassuringly, but the other reactions were a bit more comical, or they would have been, had the situation not been so serious.

"Well… that's the plan anyway," Granger continued. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to–"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said a blond Hufflepuff snidely. Tien ruffled visibly.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it–"

"You mean, Dumbledore believes _him_," the boy intoned, nodding at Harry Potter significantly.

"Who are _you_?" Ron snapped.

"Zacharias Smith, and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes _him_ say You-Know-Who's back."

"Look," Granger said quickly, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about–"

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said quietly. "What makes me say You-Know-Who's back? I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you don't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

"All Dumbledore told us last year," Smith said snottily, "was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know–"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone, I can't help you," Harry interrupted sharply. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you may as well clear out."

But nobody moved. Even Zacharias Smith stayed in his seat, although clutching his butterbeer intently and watching Harry as though trying to puzzle him out.

"So," said Hermione, her voice once again nervous. "So… like I was saying… if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to–"

"Is it true," said a Hufflepuff girl, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

"Yeah," said Harry, as though unsure whether this was an interrogative or friendly question.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

Emma froze. Could the boy really be that talented?

"Er – you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" he asked.

"She's my auntie," the girl said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So – is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes."

"Blimey, Harry!" said Lee, awestruck, "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry as he shook his head. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," Harry muttered, and several people laughed. It was true, Harry Potter had more attention than most celebrities.

"And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" said Terry Boot, yet another Ravenclaw. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year…"

"Er – yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.

There was much noise of awe, and Emma had to admit, she was impressed. A twelve-year-old killing a vicious sixty-foot snake with a sword wasn't anything to sneeze at.

"And in our first year," said Neville Longbottom, "he saved that Sorcerous Stone–"

"Sorcerer's," hissed Hermione.

"Yes, that, from You-Know-Who," finished Neville.

"And that's not to mention," said Cho, who clearly didn't realize Tien was mocking her behind her back, "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year – getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things…"

"Look," he said, causing the awe-inspired noises to die down, "I… I don't want to sound like I'm trying to modest or anything, but… I had a lot of help with all that stuff…"

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Tien loudly. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying…"

"Yeah, well–"

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," pointed out Susan Bones.

"No," said Harry, "no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is–"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Smith.

"Here's an idea," Ron practically shouted, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

Smith had the decency to turn a bit pink.

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," Smith justified.

"That's not what he said," Fred snapped.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" asked George, pulling out the long and lethal-looking metal powder measure from inside one of his Zonko's bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

"Yes, well," Granger said quickly, "moving on… the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?" There was a murmur of agreement throughout the group. "Right. Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week–"

"Hang on," said Angelina, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," said Cho, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," Smith chimed in.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," Hermione said testily, "but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters…"

"Well said!" exclaimed Ernie MacMillan of Hufflepuff. "Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!" He looked around at them all, but when there was no further reaction than Tien's amused snort at his pompous manner, he continued, "I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry as foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously they're in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells–"

"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts," Granger explained, "is that she's got some… some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilize us against the Ministry."

The news was mostly shocking, but Luna Lovegood said, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has his own private army."

"What?" cried Tien, clearly pleased that Luna had finally spoken up. Emma groaned and hid behind her hand.

"Yes, he's got an army of heliopaths."

"No, he hasn't," snapped Granger.

"Oh, but Luna says he has," Tien said with glee, "so he must!"

"What are heliopaths?" Neville Longbottom said, confused.

"They're spirits of fire," said Luna. "Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of–"

"They don't exist, Neville," snapped Hermione.

"Oh, but they must! Luna says they do!" cried Tien, and poor Hermione Granger clearly didn't pick up on the joke, because she continued the argument.

"I'm sorry, but where's the _proof_ of that?"

Luna flared.

"There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you–"

"_Hem, hem_," said Ginny, sounding so like Toadface that many people flinched and looked around in fear, before laughing when they realized it was just Ginny. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and get Defense lessons?"

"Yes," said Granger, "yes we were; you're right…"

"Well, once a week sounds cool," said Lee.

"As long as–" began Angelina.

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch," Granger said tersely. "Well, the other thing is to decide where we're going to meet…"

There was an awkward, thoughtful silence.

"Library?" Katie finally suggested.

"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" said Dean Thomas.

"Yeah," said Ron, "McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard…"

But Emma didn't even have to point out the trouble Professor McGonagall would likely be in if Toadface got wind that she had allowed them space for their misdeeds.

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," said Granger. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting." She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, biting her lip before saying, "I – I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge – or anybody else – what we're up to."

Fred eagerly reached out to sign first and put his signature down as if it was the lightest thing in the world before handing the quill to Emma, who followed suit, but she saw that some were less prepared to put quill to parchment on the issue.

"Er…" Smith said, eyeing the parchment nervously as George tried to hand it to him. "Well… I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."

Ernie was also regarding the list with some trepidation.

"I – well, we are prefects," Ernie cried. "And if this list was found… well, I mean to say… you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out…"

"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do all year," Emma reasoned, making her friends jump slightly at the sound of her voice. It was far more determined than usual.

"I – yes," said Ernie, "yes, I do believe that, it's just…"

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?" Hermione snapped.

"No. No, of course not," he said. "I – yes, of course I'll sign."

After Ernie's little meltdown there were no active objections, however Marietta Edgecombe didn't seem too happy with the idea as she added her own signature. When they finally got Zacharias to sign, Hermione slid the parchment back into her bag. A feeling of legitimacy fell on the group and Emma felt as though she had just made some sort of binding agreement, some sort of deal with someone.

"Well, time's ticking on," Fred said quickly, getting to his feet and holding Emma's hand tightly as he helped her to hers. "George, Lee, Emma, and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you later."

She followed the boys quietly out of the pub, but she couldn't shake the feeling that all of this had become incredibly, indescribably real. War was on its way.


	8. The Come and Go Room

Three days later, Toadface disbanded all student organizations. It was pure chaos. Harry assured everyone that the defense group would still be meeting, but every other group, the legitimate ones, rather, had to go through official channels to be reapproved, meaning Umbridge had to consider them innocuous.

This included Quidditch teams, much to Emma's annoyance and to the horror of Fred, George, Katie, and Angelina, who were very concerned they might not be reapproved. After all, most of Umbridge's least favorite students were on the Gryffindor team.

Thankfully, the Gryffindor Quidditch team was approved to be reformed the very next day. Emma didn't think she had ever seen Angelina so relieved, and the girl began holding Quidditch practices that very night, which put a bit of a dent in Fred's plans, as he and Emma had been meaning to meet up around seven thirty for some snogging, but Emma reassured him that they would be able to do it later.

But the very next day, the first meeting of the defense group was called, in a place called "The Room of Requirement", which was on the seventh floor. Fred and George led her and Tien there, along with the other girls (including Alicia, who didn't want to go by herself) and Lee. At eight o'clock, every member was settled on a cushion, except Emma, who was settled on Fred's lap, as they were conveniently one cushion short, anyway. Harry locked the door and they all turned their attention to him.

"Well," he said nervously, "this is the place we've found for practices, and you've – er – obviously found it okay–"

"It's fantastic!" enthused Cho, and even Tien had to agree, though it clearly bothered her to agree with anything that came out of Cho's mouth.

"It's bizarre," said Fred, looking around at the room, frowning. "We hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then…"

That was odd. Emma decided to do some research to see what the possibilities of the room were. With any luck, it could be a place she and Fred could be alone together, when they wanted more privacy.

"Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?" asked Dean Thomas from the back, pointing at the various devices.

"Dark Detectors," Harry said in a very teacher-like voice that made her think of Professor Lupin. "Basically they show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled… Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and – er – what, Hermione?"

"I think we ought to elect a leader," said Hermione.

"Harry's leader," Tien pointed out. Rolling her eyes and muttering to Emma and the twins, "I thought she was supposed to be the bright one. Pathetic."

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," Granger said, obviously not hearing the last bit. "It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So – everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?"

Every hand went in the air.

"Er – right, thanks," Harry said, crimson creeping into his cheeks. "And – _what_, Hermione?"

"I also think we ought to have a name," she said, definitely not seeing Tien making rude hand gestures at her behind her back, or she wouldn't have sounded so chipper. "It would romote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" said Angelina eagerly.

"Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?" Fred suggested.

Granger shot Fred a reproving look and said, "I was thinking more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings."

"The Defense Association?" Emma suggested. "The D. A. for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

"Yeah, the D.A.'s good, Em," said Ginny. "Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

Everyone laughed and muttered their approval and Fred kissed Emma's ear happily.

"All in favor of the D.A.?" Hermione declared bossily, getting on her knees to count. "That's a majority – motion passed!"

Emma thought the girl must have had dreams of being Prime Minister, or at least a Member of Parliament as a child. At any rate, Granger pinned their list of signatures on the wall and wrote DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY over the top in large letters.

"Right," Harry said when she took her seat, "shall we get practicing then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is _Expelliarmus_, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful–"

"Oh _please_," Smith sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't think _Expelliarmus_ is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

"I've used it against him," Harry said softly. "It saved my life last June." There was an awkward silence and Smith's mouth flopped open dumbly, making him look a bit like a fish. "But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave." Nobody moved. "Okay, I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice."

Everybody divided into pairs instantly, Emma with Tien, Fred with George, Lee with Alicia, and Katie with Angelina, and likewise throughout the room. Fred had already told Emma that if they were going to be pairing off, he didn't want to pair off with her because he couldn't bear to curse her. The only person left out was Neville Longbottom, unsurprisingly.

"You can practice with me," Harry said to Longbottom. "Right – on the count of three, then – one, two, three–"

Everyone said the incantation on Harry's cue, but it was chaos. Not everyone was even near decent at aim and spells shot literally everywhere. Tien had Emma's wand easily, but many of the other students weren't even doing a very good job at the basics of holding a wand for proper defensive magic, much less the particular spell they were working on.

Neither Fred nor George was being disarmed, although Emma was being disarmed regularly, and Emma figured out why almost at the same time Harry Potter did: they were taking turns disarming Zacharias Smith before he could disarm Anthony Goldstein.

"Sorry, Harry," George said quickly when Harry frowned at them. "Couldn't resist…"

Tien and Emma couldn't help but laugh, but Harry just shook his head and moved on to them. He watched Tien disarm Emma three times in a row, then corrected Emma's stance, told her to be a bit more firm with her movements, and asked her to try again. Tien disarmed her easily once more, but he nodded encouragingly and told her to speak with more confidence. Emma was shaking but she did as he said, and surprisingly, Tien's wand came soaring at her. She blinked.

"Oh my god," she cried. "I actually did it!"

Harry smiled.

"See, it's not so bad. We'll get you ready for real dueling soon enough."

Emma couldn't explain it, but the thought that Harry Potter thought she would be able to duel, to hold her own in the upcoming war made Emma feeling immensely proud of herself. She wouldn't have to rely on others, she would be able to defend herself, without Fred protecting her.

Harry did stop them all and have them all start over again, continuing to move around the room.

"Oh, Merlin's balls," Tien sighed, "look at lover-boy and little-miss-shiny-hair. You know she uses a spell to make her hair shinier, right? She's actually got split ends."

"Yes, you've told me," Emma sighed, looking over at Harry and Cho Chang. It was clear the poor boy was infatuated with the girl, but whatever. He didn't know her very right. As much as Emma was pained to admit it, if anyone knew and understood people, it was Tien, and she was totally right about Cho Chang and Harry not lasting long.

"Oh, even better!" Tien cried as Terry Boot's wand zoomed across their line of sight and hit Alicia hard on the nose. Emma winced, but she had to agree with Tien, after how Alicia had treated her, it was a rather humorous sight. Terry Boot rushed over and issued a thousand apologies.

"Hey, Harry," Granger called from the other side of the room, over by Fred and George, "have you checked the time?"

Emma looked down at her watched and blinked in surprise when she realized it was already ten past nine. They had to rush if they were going to make curfew. Harry blew his whistle and everyone stopped what they were doing.

"Well, that was pretty good," he said, "but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?"

"Sooner!" Tien cried, and many people nodded in agreement. She was clearly surprised, and after all, people didn't usually agree with Tien.

"The Quidditch season's about to start," Angelina argued, "we need team practices too!"

"Let's say next Wednesday night, then," said Harry, "and we can decide on additional meetings then… Come on, we'd better get going…"

He pulled out the Map she recognized as the one the twins had used to get around the school undetected for five years. They must have passed it on to Harry after that. He allowed them to leave in threes and fours, so Fred, George, Tien, and Emma left and were closely followed by Lee and the other girls.

"Well," Fred announced as he and George dropped Emma and Tien off at the Ravenclaw Tower, "that was fun. We should do this again soon." He kissed Emma's cheek and said, "And you and I should test out that room later, darling."

Two days later, they did.

Fred sent Emma a note through Tien and George to meet him in the Room of Requirement just after dinner. She did, but not before checking her hair in a suit of armor on her way. She wasn't sure what the room would dream up for them, but she was excited to find out.

At the agreed time, she found herself on the seventh floor, followed the directions Fred had given her, and the door appeared. With a smile, she stepped inside to find Fred pacing the room anxiously.

And what a room it was. There was a large fireplace on one end, roaring with flame and warming the room. In the center of the room was a table where she could study, a couch where they could sit and talk, and on the far end of the room was a bed. Not just any bed, a large, fluffy bed with more blankets than she had ever seen before. Emma liked blankets.

"Wow," she muttered, and Fred stopped pacing abruptly, turning to her with a grin on his face.

"You like it?" he said. "I just imagined it and it all appeared, right here. This room is amazing!"

She smiled, nodded, and kissed him gently on the lips, sitting down on the couch, her back to the bed. There would be time for that later, but for now, she just wanted to be with him. Fred caught the hint and sat beside her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek.

"How was your day, darling?" he whispered, gently trailing kisses along her face.

They talked about classes, pranks, joke products, and Tien's latest rant for about an hour, unconsciously moving ever closer to each other. When they finally found themselves with Emma on Fred's lap, their arms wound tightly around each other, looking in each other's eyes, Fred's sentence about Lee's trial with the Canary Creams drifted into nothing and he hungrily kissed her, as if she might disappear if he did not.

His tongue slid over her bottom lip and she opened her mouth instinctively. It entered her mouth, exploring all the paths and byways it knew practically by heart. Her fingers ran through his hair, gripping his ginger locks as she moaned. She could feel his hardness growing, his cock twitching with every sound she made, digging into her leg. It scared her a little, made her anxious, but the thought that she had that sort of power also excited her.

After ten heated minutes on the couch, Fred stood, carrying her over to the bed, where he laid her gently amongst the blankets and pillows, slipping out of his shoes and carefully sliding hers off before climbing into the bed beside her. His eyes trailed up and down her fully-clothed body as if trying to decide what to do first, like a starving man at a feast.

Then he attacked her neck with his lips, teeth, tongue, taking off his tie as he did so, but Emma barely noticed. She was basking in the feel of his hot mouth on her skin. These weren't new sensations, but somehow they felt more powerful, as if the knowledge of what they were about to do was enhancing every lick, every kiss, every touch. It was maddening.

Her fingers found their way to the buttons of his shirt and quickly undid them as he shrugged off his robes, hovering over her. As soon as she finished with the buttons he peeled off the shirt, tossing it to the ground, and began working on her robe, then her buttons. She sat up to allow him to take them off, toss them to the floor as well. His awed sigh at the sight of her in nothing but her bra was encouraging, and when he fumbled with the fastening of her bra, she didn't protest. It felt right.

Soon that was on the ground and they were both topless, but instead of moving forward they took a moment to explore the recently acquired territory. Emma ran her fingers along his toned chest. There were a few small scars, burn marks, she knew, from his experiments, but nothing ghastly. The light dusting of ginger hair on his body was enticing, but what was more interesting to her was the fascinated, hypnotized way he stared at her chest, reaching out a shaking hand to touch her. When their skin made contact, he seemed to regain his confidence and began to pleasure her breasts, massaging, sucking, licking, kissing… even a little bit of nibbling. When she began moaning in pleasure once more, he moved his fingers to her skirt, unfastening it and sliding it down her legs.

The feel of the fabric slipping off of her, his fingertips igniting a fire on every part of her skin they touched in the process, caused her to shiver with pleasurable anticipation. With a certainty she hadn't known she had, Emma unbuckled his belt and slipped it out of the loops, tossing it aside. His eyes were sparkling, his expression alert as he helped her undo his pants and toss them aside. The toned legs she knew were underneath his clothing were now in front of her, begging to be touched.

Before she could take advantage of them, however he began kissing down her body, reaching her panties and licking her through the fabric: Just one little lick. The sensation made her shudder noticeably and she could feel him smirking. Another lick. She moaned, her hips rising up and begging for more.

Fred was many things, but patient was not one of them. He hooked his fingers onto the sides of her panties and tugged them hastily off before returning almost instantly to taste her more completely.

Emma was inexperienced, unaware of what things were called and how things were done, but whatever he was doing, she didn't want him to stop, and her moans and sighs were telling him just that. Truth be told, Fred wasn't entirely sure what he was doing either, and he seemed to be experimenting, exploring, figuring things out as he went along. Every time he got a satisfied sound from her, she could see his face grow more and more proud. That is, until she was so lost to the sensations that she closed her eyes and threw back her head.

It didn't take long after that for a wave of pleasure to wash over her whole body, causing her to shudder and gasp, writhing under his tongue and fingers. She knew what that was, and now that she knew what it felt like she wanted it to happen again.

Fred certainly thought the same, for he peeled his boxers off as soon as she had calmed down a bit and began stroking his already hard member. There were already drops of fluid on the tip and Emma saw that he was taking the fluid and spreading it across the rest of the skin. She knew what came next. She knew it would hurt, and she knew Fred would feel bad about hurting her, so she resolved to not let him know at all.

It wasn't long before he was positioned at her entrance, biting his lip, eyes staring straight into hers as he moved forward into her, pressing his length into her.

At first, it was agony. It was all Emma could do not to cry out in pain, and she was sure he realized when she spontaneously and vigorously kissed him that she was distracting her mouth from its duty to express her discomfort, but he did not acknowledge it. Fred knew her well enough to know she would have been upset if he had. Instead, he began to make a rhythm, in and out, driving more and more of his length into her as the pain began to subside and her pleasure began to mount once more. Soon, Emma was moaning into his mouth, driving herself against him, working for more friction.

"So… c-close," he gasped. She nodded. She was close again as well.

"Emma!" he cried, and she could feel him release inside of her. He continued to ride it out until she climaxed again, moments later, even more violently than before, writhing underneath him.

"Oh, bloody hell," he sighed when they had caught their breath, curled up together on the bed. "You have no idea," he whispered, "how incredibly beautiful you looked then. I don't think I've ever seen anything so magical in my life."

She would have blushed if her body could have gotten any redder, but she simply nuzzled against his sweaty chest, thinking about the way he had just cried out her name.

"I couldn't agree more," she sighed, kissing him gently as she gave in to sleep.


	9. One Step Up, Two Steps Back

Sex changed less than Emma thought it would have. Weeks went by with life going on as usual, with trips to the Room of Requirement maybe twice a week. Emma's lifestyle decisions were only slightly altered. She ordered some lingerie and borrowed a bit of Katie's until it arrived. She had Tien brew her some contraceptive potion, which Tien did with surprising happiness. Emma decided to set aside her alarm at Tien's eagerness to make the potion and just be grateful. She would deal with whatever her friend's odd plans were at a later date.

Despite her expectations that Fred would want sex all of the time, he was actually far less demanding than she was. After all, he had classes (although not very many), Quidditch, and business, with the DA on top of it all. He had said over and over how it felt as though he was always trying to fit her in when she ought to be his top priority, but she understood completely. How was he ever going to reach his goals if he didn't have the capability to focus on them?

Although his mother, according to Fred and George, thought the twins were incapable of doing anything properly, the boys were actually incredibly disciplined, just not on issues that they weren't concerned with. The joke shop certainly didn't fall into that category, and Emma knew she would always be the mistress to the business. She thought it would be difficult, but she found herself not minding at all.

"Are you going to the match today, love?" Fred asked her one morning at breakfast, referring to the Gryffindor/Slytherin match.

"I would love to," she said honestly, "but I've got this incredibly long essay that I've barely written a word of due Monday and I really ought to get it done as soon as possible."

He frowned playfully, but Emma knew he didn't mind so much.

"Well, how about you come and find me when your paper's done?" he said, kissing her neck. "I'm sure I'll want to see you."

Emma laughed, agreed to do so, and hurried off to her dormitory, settling down with her books, parchment and quill, less than eager to write her essay, but knowing it wouldn't write itself, despite her desire for it to do so. It took nearly four hours, but she finally managed to get it wrapped up and edited.

"Right," she said to herself proudly. "Now for fun."

Emma put away her things, wandered to Gryffindor, to find Fred staring blankly at the fire of the common room with the other Gryffindor players not far, except Harry, who was actually nowhere to be found.

"So…" she said slowly, sitting on Fred's lap, "did you lose?"

"No," Fred grumbled, "we won."

She frowned.

"So… why the long faces?"

"Because," George snapped, "Fred, Harry and I have been handed lifetime bans because that squirmy little ferret provoked us to punching him."

"I didn't do anything!" Fred cried, frustrated.

"No, but that's only because we managed to physically restrain you," Angelina said bitterly. "I've got no bloody clue what I'm going to do now! No Beaters, no Seeker… it's a disaster! That cow!"

Emma frowned. She hadn't expected them to speak that way about Professor McGonagall.

"Who…?"

"Umbridge," Katie explained darkly. "Queen of the Killjoys herself. Who else?"

There wasn't much to say to that. Umbridge was certainly getting her way in ruining their time at Hogwarts, their last months at school. Their childhood, really, that's what she was ruining. Because even though they were of age, they were still children until they left those halls never to return again as students. It was bad enough that they had a war waiting out there for them, but not to have the last vestiges of their childhood… well, it was cruel, there wasn't any other way of putting it.

Emma took Fred and led him to the Room of Requirement, curling up on the couch with him and letting him complain. He needed to get out his frustration, but she was at a lost to help him. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to fix this mess?

Sex. It obviously didn't fix anything, not really, but she was able to help distract him, to help him release some of his frustration, his aggression. When they were lying together in the bed, skin on skin, catching their breath on the way back down, he whispered, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Emma chuckled.

"Thank you, I suppose," she sighed. "I'm rather fond of you, as well."

"No," he muttered, holding her even tighter. "No, that's not it at all. I love you so, so much, Emma, and if something happened to you, if something happened between us, if I ever lost you, I don't know what I'd do. It took me far too long to realize how much you meant to me, and I spent so many years just taking you for granted but I love you and nothing's ever going to change that. Promise me; promise you'll never leave me."

She clutched onto him.

"I promise I'll never leave on purpose," she agreed. "But this is a war, Fred. Things happen."

"No," he growled. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Emma. I'm going to protect you. You have to let me protect you. I can't live without you. Nothing is going to happen to you, do you hear me?"

She sighed at his stubbornness, sighed at the realization that he was never going to stop treating her like a piece of china, but would she feel the same for him if he behaved like anyone other than Fred Weasley?

Probably not.

"I promise, Fred," she whispered, tracing her fingers along his chest. "We're going to be fine, all right? We'll make it through this. We'll be just fine."

And they fell asleep tangled up together, drinking in the rhythm of their breath and heartbeats, so synchronized one might have thought they were truly one.

Weeks flew by faster that Emma could have imagined. It wasn't fair, she thought, that their first term was already nearly over. She suddenly found herself in the Room of Requirement again, but this time under much different circumstances.

It was the last DA meeting of the term. Things were going well, there was much improvement with everyone in the group, and Harry sent them away with high spirits. Fred even snuck a kiss under the mistletoe on the way out. Emma couldn't believe that anything bad would possibly happen.

That night, she slept in Fred's bed, not because they were doing a sleepover, but because she wanted to be close to him, although she couldn't explain the sudden, driving need to do so. Fred didn't mind, and she curled her small body into his strong, protective frame and they fell fast asleep. Her dreams, however, were far from peaceful, and when they were violently awoken by Professor McGonagall several hours later, Emma took a moment to realize that it wasn't just a part of her strange, dark dreams.

"Miss Norwick?" Professor McGonagall said, frowning. "Never mind that now, Weasley, and you as well, Weasley, I need you both to come with me. I'm going to get your sister. You will wait for me in the common room. I won't be long. Miss Norwick, it's best you stay here for the night. Professor Umbridge might be out and about and I don't want you getting detention for being out after curfew. Come to my office tomorrow and we'll have a bit of a chat, is that clear?"

Emma, being sleepy and confused, could do nothing but nod and fall back asleep as Fred pulled on some robes over his pajamas and kissed her on the cheek as George scrambled out of bed.

"What's going on?" she muttered.

"I don't know," he whispered, "but I'll let you know, I promise. Sleep tight, love."

But he didn't come back. In fact, he didn't even write her a note, and when none of the Weasleys were at breakfast the next morning, she started to panic. On her free period, she rushed to Professor McGonagall's office, where the stern professor was looking a bit tired and ragged, and not at all herself.

"Miss Norwick," she said. "Please, come in. Have a seat. Would you care for a biscuit?"

Emma blinked down at the biscuit tin and politely declined.

"Now, I am aware, of course, that Mr. Weasley and yourself are in a relationship. I may be old but I'm not blind. I would request, however, that if you are going to sleep in his bed, that you not sleep there when I come around to visit. It's highly inappropriate." Professor McGonagall paused. "But at least you were decently dressed."

Emma blushed furiously, but nodded.

"I understand that you seventh years are doing whatever you please, and that's certainly not advisable, but there is very little we can do to rein you in. After all, you are consenting adults. I simply ask that you consider your actions when younger students are present and try not to paw each other in public places. I think this is a reasonable request."

"Of course, Professor," Emma said softly. "May I ask something?"

"Yes, Miss Norwick."

"What happened to Fred? I mean, he didn't come back, his whole family is mysteriously missing, he didn't leave me a note, and Professor To – I mean, Umbridge – looks as if she swallowed a newt and it didn't agree with her."

Professor McGonagall looked down at Emma with scrutiny.

"Well," she said finally, "he has left early for break. His father had an accident and is in St. Mungo's. The situation looked particularly dire last night, but it appears he will make a full recovery, in time. It's best you don't try writing to him until break, however. I doubt very much this would surprise you, but mail is being monitored, and he won't be able to give you any more information while you are at school."

"Of course," Emma said.

Professor McGonagall hadn't said as much, but Emma knew that this was about the war. His father had been injured, likely in something to do with the fight against You-Know-Who, and the Weasleys were likely in whatever place it was they had been over the summer, the place Fred couldn't tell her about. She would write him as soon as she got home, she decided.

"Oh!" she realized. "I was supposed to be going to stay with the Weasleys over the holidays. I don't suppose I'll be able to do that, now."

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips thoughtfully, a certain softness in her eyes that Emma had never seen before, and then she said, "I will talk to the headmaster and something will be arranged. One of us will let you know when we have come to a decision. Now, I believe you have class. You had best be on your way."

"Yes, Professor, thank you!" Emma cried, gathering up her things and rushing off to class.

Emma spent much of her day worried, wondering, not sure if things were okay. That evening, she received a note that told her to go to the headmaster's office, (password: Fizzing Whizzbee), and she hurried away instantly. She had never been to the headmaster's office before, and when she knocked on the door she felt remarkably self-conscious.

"Enter."

She made her way inside, nervous to find herself alone, face-to-face, with Albus Dumbledore. He had been her headmaster for seven years, but she'd never had a real conversation with him.

"Professor," she said softly, and he motioned her to sit down.

"Miss Norwick," he said gravely, his twinkling blue eyes fixed on her through his half-moon spectacles. "It has been brought to my attention that your holiday plans were a bit shaken up by the events of last night. I must ask you several things. First of all, what do you think of Harry Potter?"

She blinked.

"H-Harry? He's a very nice boy. I – I don't suppose you're asking in that sense, though, sir." He shook his head and a smile played on his lips. "I believe him, Professor. Fred has told me… well, he's told me more than he probably should have, but I believe every word. I recognize that there's a war out there, and I realize that's probably what happened to Mr. Weasley."

"Do you promise to do a better job of keeping secrets than your significant other has done?" Professor Dumbledore said, although his voice was more amused than upset.

"Yes, sir."

"There are a few other things I must tell you, then. Firstly, Sirius Black is an innocent man."

Emma frowned. That was certainly not what she had expected. She certainly wasn't sure what it had to do with anything, but Sirius Black was the name her mother had used to scare her into behaving her entire life. The very idea that he could be innocent made her mind hurt.

But then, was it really that much harder to believe that the fact that Voldemort had returned?

No, not really.

She nodded slightly.

"I will let others explain the details of that to you," he continued, "but it is very important that you realize and believe that he is innocent."

"Yes, Professor. I trust you."

"Very well. There is something else I must tell you." He looked around, then said very softly, "The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix are located at Number 12, Grimmauld Place in London."

She frowned once more. Why was he telling her these things? She wasn't a member of the Order, she hadn't even qualified yet. Unless… unless…

"Fidelius Charm," she said softly, in awe. It was a spell so complex she could hardly dream of accomplishing it. And yet, it certainly wasn't out of the realm of possibility for one so powerful as Dumbledore, especially considering he needed the utmost of secrecy and security surrounding his organization.

"Very good," he said proudly. "Now, Miss Granger will be going to Grimmauld Place as well when term has completed. She and I discussed this earlier. You will take the train to London and then take the Knight Bus. Miss Granger knows the way. I trust you are acquainted with her?"

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Very well," he said with a smile. "I think that will be all. I hope you have a pleasant holiday, Miss Norwick, and I suspect I will be seeing more of you in the future."

"Thank you, sir," she said, unsure of how to interpret that last part. "I hope you have a nice holiday as well."

Emma made her way through the halls, found her way into Gryffindor Tower, and searched for Hermione Granger. The bushy-haired wonder was working on Arithmancy in her dormitory, and she looked up at Emma and smiled.

"Oh, Professor Dumbledore said you might be going with me. I have to say, I was a bit surprised, but then, Professor Dumbledore does follow his own rules, doesn't he? But he always seems to know what the right thing to do is."

"Yes," Emma agreed. "He certainly does."

The following morning, Hermione Granger and Emma Norwick found themselves in a compartment together on the train back to London, which, as Hermione Granger had pointed out, would make things more efficient. Emma couldn't argue with efficiency.

They caught the Knight Bus, which Emma had never been on before, and could honestly say she never wanted to be on again, and found themselves on a street called Grimmauld Place. The eyes of passersby slid right from number eleven to number thirteen, as if number twelve didn't exist. Although, from what Emma knew of the Fidelius Charm, it didn't exist, as far as the general public was concerned, much like the Leaky Cauldron to Muggles. They climbed up the stairs and paused.

"What are we waiting for exactly?" Emma muttered, shivering a little in the cold winter air.

"We're not supposed to ring the doorbell," Hermione explained. "The noise disturbs this portrait that likes to scream at people. It's quite a fuss, so we avoid it at all costs, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to unlock the door without it."

Emma frowned.

"Well, why don't you try?"

"Well, what if I do it wrong?"

"And what if we both freeze to death out here waiting for something to happen?"

Hermione bit her lip, nodded, and tapped her wand smartly on the door. They could hear a series of clicks as the door unlocked and she swung it open.

"See?" Emma said. "Was that so hard?"

Hermione led Emma through the hall and downstairs to a kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was busy baking.

"Oh, my goodness. Emma!" Mrs. Weasley said brightly. "Professor Dumbledore said to expect an extra surprise, but he didn't say who! Oh, but Fred will be so delighted to see you. Here, have a seat, you must be starving."

In truth, Emma was quite hungry. She sat down and jumped a little when she realized that the man she had sat down beside was none other than Sirius Black, the infamous mass murderer… who was apparently not a mass murderer at all. He looked up at her, sized her up, and said, "Hey."

"Hello," she muttered.

"Sirius," Mrs. Weasley said, "this is Emma Norwick, my son's girlfriend. Emma, this is Sirius Black. He owns the house."

And that was why Professor Dumbledore had mentioned him.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, holding out a hand, which she shook nervously.

"Likewise," she muttered. "You-you'll have to forgive me, but I'm afraid it's going to take me a while to get used to the thought that you aren't actually a mass murderer."

"Understandable," he said with a bit of a smile. "You'll have to forgive me, but it's going to take me a while to get used to the idea that one of those twins ended up with someone as classy as you."

Emma blushed, and Mrs. Weasley said, "She's intelligent, too; she's a top student, a Ravenclaw."

"My, my," Sirius Black grinned. "Definitely out of his league."

Shaking her head, Emma replied, "No, I'd not say that. I think he's out of mine."


	10. Read to Me

Before Emma had a chance to see Fred, she was informed of the full story of Sirius Black's innocence, helped Mrs. Weasley with the baking, and was about to be dragged into helping Sirius, as he asked her to call him, put up decorations. Finally, her boyfriend appeared.

"Mum!" Fred cried. "Are you telling me Emma got here when Hermione did and nobody _told_ me? What sort of a mother _are_ you?"

"A busy one," Mrs. Weasley chided. "And if you wanted to fix that, you'd be helping me with dinner, now get in here and chop!"

Fred smirked a little, but he paused to kiss Emma on the cheek sweetly.

"I'm sorry I didn't write," he said from across the room and Sirius and Emma hung mistletoe and holly. "I didn't want you getting in trouble with Umbridge or something."

"No, it's all right," she laughed. "Professor McGonagall explained roughly what happened and then she and Professor Dumbledore worked it out so I could come here, I guess. I'm not sure why, maybe they felt sorry for me."

"No," Fred said as he helped his mother make dinner. "It's because they knew they could trust you. That's high praise from Dumbledore, love."

They went about readying dinner and decorating the house, which, Emma learned, was quite vast.

"I'm afraid there's not enough room for the three of you in the room I have set up for Hermione and Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said anxiously. "I suppose we'll have to find a room to put you in…"

"You could put her in my room," Sirius said amicably. "I'll sleep on the couch in the sitting room."

"Sirius, we're not going to put you out of your own house!" Mrs. Weasley cried.

"Nonsense," Sirius insisted. "After all, it's my own fault there aren't enough inhabitable rooms in the house for all our guests. Besides, it's not like I've never slept on a couch before."

Emma knew the Weasleys were full of generous hospitality, having visited them before, but the generous kindness of Sirius Black was more than a little surprising. She was constantly reminding herself that he was an innocent man, a framed man, but the idea took more than a little getting used to.

If there was one thing Emma quickly learned about Sirius Black, though, it's that the man loved Christmas. He wandered through the house singing carols at the top of his lungs, shoving mistletoe at every turn, and even wearing a Santa hat.

Christmas morning, Emma took her gifts down to the kitchen to open them, knowing the twins would find her and open them together. What she hadn't been counting on was Sirius Black joining in on their gift-opening time. It wouldn't have been bad, except for the racy lingerie the twins (yes, both twins) bought her… Sirius's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"That is… wow," he gasped. "That's all I can say. Black and blue, huh? No red?"

"Too much," George said with a shrug. "Besides, Emma's a bombshell in blue."

Emma blushed and tried to pretend she didn't notice the smirk Sirius directed at her as he muttered, "I'll bet she is."

Angelina and Katie had gotten Emma some more lingerie (though nothing quite as scandalous as the pieces the boys had bought her) and a hefty amount of chocolate. Tien sent her hand-written transcripts of her latest work on Loony Lovegood, chocolate, and a book of sex positions that Fred and Emma discreetly flipped through. There were things in there (almost all of which were starred and commented on by Tien) which made even Fred blush.

Mrs. Weasley had given her a tin of homemade cookies and a hand-knit blue sweater with a stately eagle on the breast. Hermione and Ginny gave her a joint gift of a box of deluxe sugar quills and a detailed anthology of Transfiguration. The present she hadn't been expecting, however, was a small gift from Sirius Black.

She frowned down at the parcel, wondering what it was as she opened it. His expression as he watched her carefully rip away the wrapping was unreadable. Inside a very nice box was a thin silver bracelet, very basic, with a small, delicate blue stone on the face. It was absolutely perfect, something that suited her so well she had to wonder how he had found it, especially having met her only quite recently. Unsure of how to express her gratitude for the gift, she blushed and thanked him softly, and he merely winked at her and muttered as he passed her on his way out of the kitchen, "George's right, you really do look delicious in blue."

Emma tried to hide the fact that she turned about six shades of red by busying herself with making some hot chocolate for her and the twins.

Was Sirius Black flirting with her, or had her increase in confidence from her relations with Fred deluded her into believing that she was more desirable than she actually was? And even if he was flirting with her, surely it was just for the entertainment value of watching her blush. He was, after all, far too old for her, and she was taken.

But when she turned back around with the chocolate and found he was still watching her with a strange, unreadable expression, Emma couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't something more behind that glance. Even if there was, though, what would she do about it? Tell him to stop looking at her?

Thankfully, they got all of the lingerie put safely away by the time Mrs. Weasley came down for breakfast.

"Good morning, dears," Mrs. Weasley said brightly. "I hope you've gotten what you've wanted?"

"Yes, it's all been very lovely," Emma said eagerly. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Weasley, for the sweater and the cookies."

"You picked the perfect shade of blue," Fred said lovingly, pulling the sweater in question over her head, kissing her on the cheek.

"It looks lovely, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, "and it was–"

But exactly what it was, Emma never found out, because at that moment, an owl Emma recognized as Hermes, Percy's owl, dropped a package on the table in front of Mrs. Weasley… a package addressed to Percy and roughly the same shape as the one Emma had opened that morning.

There was an awkward silence that fell over the room. Percy had sent back his Christmas sweater.

Without thought to where she was and with whom, Mrs. Weasley burst out in tears, clutching the package.

Professor Lupin came in, clearly wanting to make a cup of tea, but stopped short at the scene in front of him.

"What's wrong?" he asked Sirius quietly.

"Don't worry about it, Mum," Fred said earnestly.

"Yeah, Percy's nothing," George insisted.

"Nothing but a humungous pile of rat droppings," Fred added cheerfully, but all they succeeded in doing was causing their mother to sob even more violently and attempt to scold them incoherently.

"I'll take it from here, boys, thank you," Professor Lupin sighed, moving forward to comfort Mrs. Weasley as Fred grabbed Emma's arm and Apparated the three of them upstairs, away from the nasty event.

They found themselves at the foot of Harry's bed in Harry and Ron's room.

"Merry Christmas," said George. "Don't go downstairs for a bit."

"Why not?" asked Ron.

"Mum's crying again," said Fred heavily. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper."

"Without a note," added George. "Hasn't asked how Dad is or visited him or anything…"

"We tried to comfort her," said Fred, moving around the bed to look at a portrait Harry was holding. "Told her Percy's nothing more than a humongous pile of rat droppings —"

"— didn't work," said George, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog. "So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon."

"What's that supposed to be anyway?" asked Fred, squinting at Dobby's painting. "Looks like a gibbon with two black eyes."

"It's Harry!" said Emma, pointing at the back of the picture. "Says so on the back!"

"Good likeness," said Fred, grinning. Harry threw a homework diary at him; it hit the wall opposite and fell to the floor where it said happily, "_If you've dotted the i's and crossed the t's then you may do_ _whatever you please_!"

The trio then escaped, laughing, heading to a study where they found Sirius, casually reading a newspaper.

"Hello, again," he said, equally casually, looking up at the three of them and smiling. "I expect Remus has nearly gotten the waterworks turned off. You'll be visiting your father this afternoon again, yes?"

"Yeah, that's the plan," Fred conceded. "Emma, I forgot to ask, do you want to come, too? I'm sure Dad would love to see you."

Emma considered it. It was Christmas. Mr. Weasley was an invalid. Surely he would rather spend the time with his family, not with a girl he hardly knew but might be aware was dating his son."

"No, thank you, I'll stay here," she said politely. "I think I'll see him when he gets out, and hopefully it will be before term starts, but if not, then maybe at Easter or something."

Fred seemed a bit disappointed, but he nodded, maybe attributing her reluctance to her shy nature. The four of them made their way down to the kitchen for breakfast, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were poking around in the boiler room, according to Hermione, leaving a present for the house-elf, Kreacher, whom Emma had yet to meet. Sirius had told her it was probably for the best.

Once lunch was eaten, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys made their way to St. Mungo's leaving Emma, awkwardly, alone with Sirius Black in the kitchen.

"So, Emma," he said with a little smirk, emphasizing the consonants in her name. "You're a Ravenclaw."

"Yes," she said softly.

"You like books?"

"Yes," she said, wishing he hadn't asked her something so stereotypical.

"You should read to me."

What? He wanted her to read to him while the others were gone? Was he out of his mind?

"What?"

"You're of age, like the twins, I'm guessing?"

"Yes," she said, still not sure what he was getting at.

"Read me this," he said, handing her what she was mortified to find was the book of sexual positions Tien had given her for Christmas, the one that had made Fred blush, the one she thought she had hidden away out of reach of everyone. Apparently, Sirius Black was very good at finding things he wanted. Was he just as good at getting things he wanted? She would have hazarded a guess at yes.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said flustered. "There aren't many words. Just pictures."

"Exactly," he said, moving a step closer, leaning in to her ear so close that his lips tickled her earlobe. "Read it to me, kitten."

Emma took a step back, realizing she was at the wall. He chuckled, taking another step toward her, still leaning over her intimidatingly.

"Relax, kitten, I'm just teasing you," he said huskily. "You look pretty when you blush."

She blushed deeper.

"I wonder," he breathed in her ear, "how pretty you would look covered in sweat and screaming my name."

She shivered and blushed even deeper, but he did nothing. He simply placed a remarkably chaste kiss on her lips and smirked at her.

"I'm taken," she managed to whisper, as if he had asked and she was simply giving him a polite answer, but he snorted.

"I don't really care," he admitted. "Don't worry, dove, I'm not going to make you do anything. I just like making you squirm. But if you two ever split, you know where to find me."

Emma frowned as Sirius turned, heading upstairs. She would be locking the door at night, no matter what he said. She wasn't good enough at deciphering jokes to know what he actually was up to. But one thing she decided not to do was mention it to anyone else, especially Fred. Somehow, she didn't think Fred attempting to battle Sirius Black for her honor would ever turn out well for anyone, particularly for Fred.

All the same, Emma tried to avoid Sirius while the others were gone. The last thing she wanted was for him to corner her in some dark part of the house… There was no telling what could happen if she managed to convince herself it was his fault, because despite Emma's conscience, Sirius was very attractive and intriguing, and had something about him Fred would take years to acquire, she knew.

When they came back from the hospital, Emma was hiding in the study, where Fred found her, kissing temple gently as he sat on the desk in front of her, clearly attempting to distract her from the book in her hands.

"How was the hospital?" she said.

"It was all right," he said with a shrug. "Dad and some Trainee tried some Muggle thing where they sew your skin–"

"Stitches."

"Yeah."

"Did it work?"

"No, the venom dissolved it," Fred said with a smirk. "Mum was furious."

Emma sighed.

"I'll bet she was. Stitches are great for Muggle wounds, but I never would have dreamed of using them on wounds inflicted by a magical creature. Whoever this Trainee was, they're an idiot."

Fred laughed.

"Now, now, love, we can't all be as brilliant as you. Anyway, what did you get up to while I was gone?"

She casually lifted the book to indicate that she'd been reading.

"What, the whole time?" he asked, and she nodded. "Want to do something different?"

Emma looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

"What did you have in mind, Fred?"

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Emma couldn't help but notice how silly and childish he looked compared with the hot, sensual way Sirius Black had tried to seduce her earlier that day. She couldn't help but think that this was what she loved about Fred, his youthful exuberance, his absolute silly nature. It was refreshing, and after all, they were just kids. Sure, You-Know-Who was back and terrible, horrible things were happening all of the time, but they ought to have been behaving like silly, wanton teenagers without a care in the world, not planning for battle and acting like serious adults.

She leaned forward and kissed his lips gently.

"I'm sort of tired," she whispered as he rested his forehead against hers. "And your mother is in the same building."

Fred groaned.

"It's almost January," she whispered, chuckling a bit. "It won't be long until we're back at school and then…"

"Then I go back to taking you in all sorts of awkward places that aren't what you deserve," he groaned. "I wanted us to have a bed for once, where all my friends wouldn't be listening to see if you're a screamer."

Emma groaned, but he said, "Besides, Sirius said we could use his bed, and it's got the most privacy in the whole house."

For Emma, that sealed it. There was no way that lecher was going to have any knowledge of or bearing over her sex life, period. She told Fred she just wasn't going to be able to manage relaxing in that house, that it was creepy, that his mother would surely walk in on them, and finally he relented, although it was obvious that he was very frustrated. She felt bad, but she kissed his forehead and whispered, "It's not that I don't want to. As soon as we get back, I promise."

What she wasn't going to tell him was her plans for the train ride back, but she knew he wouldn't complain. Fred didn't have enough happy surprises in his life.

When he grew tired and went off to bed, Emma stayed in the study continuing to read in silence, barely noticing when the door opened and someone joined her realm of solitude. She looked up when she felt someone reading over her shoulder and found Sirius Black's face remarkably close to hers. She jumped.

"I see you didn't take up the offer to sleep in my bed," he said in his rich, seductive voice. "Poor Freddie."

"Fred's a big boy," she said. "And I don't know what your ulterior motive is, but I don't appreciate it."

To her great surprise, Sirius sighed, laying down on a divan in the corner and staring up at the ceiling.

"If you must know, you remind me of someone I used to know," he said softly. "She was pretty, a Muggleborn, probably could have been a Ravenclaw. I didn't see her in blue much, but she was stunning in green. She married my best friend."

"I'm sorry," Emma said softly.

Sirius barked with laughter.

"Don't be," he said. "We weren't in love. I didn't ever really think of her that way. We flirted a bit. She was the only person who could match my wit, once she got over her embarrassment. James thought it was funny, too, and it wasn't too long after they got together that she and I would flirt back and forth. It was a way to pass the time, and it confused people. Sometimes, when James was on a mission and I kept her company, she would read to me."

"James?" she said softly. "James Potter?"

"Yeah," Sirius sighed. "Yeah, Harry's parents. They were my best friends. You make me think so much of her."

Emma wasn't sure for a moment what to say to that, but finally she said, "I'm honored."

Sirius smiled up at her from the divan and she felt bad about her fear of him, both before and after she knew of his innocence. He looked so much like a child in that moment that she wanted to pet him and tell him what a good boy he was.

All of a sudden, he got up and grabbed a book from the shelf, one on antidotes to common poisons. He turned it over in his hands for a moment, then held it out to Emma.

"Read to me?" he said in a small sort of voice and she took it from him, smiling, opening up the book and beginning to read as he settled back onto the divan, a boyish grin on his face.


	11. Foreboding

As it became closer and closer to the day when the students would have to go back to Hogwarts, Emma noticed that Sirius became increasingly less merry, certainly a far cry from the man who had teased and propositioned her on Christmas. She knew he must hate being alone in such a gloomy house, a house he very clearly hated with all his being. She knew he must want Harry to stay with him, but Harry had to go back to school.

At first, she found it difficult to understand the sullen behavior. After all, he was an adult. Surely he should be able to understand that Harry's place was at Hogwarts. But after a while, Emma realized that Sirius being an adult wasn't as simple as all that.

He had been barely older than her when he had been taken to Azkaban, his life put on hold. He hadn't be particularly mature, based on the stories he and Professor Lupin had told her while she was there. In fact, much of the maturity he did have she attributed to his growing up in wartime, not to any act of natural growing up and becoming an adult. He was an adult not because he'd earned the right, but because it was required of him while he was still in his youth.

She felt a great deal of sympathy for him, in a way. She could picture Fred like that, under similar circumstances. After all, Fred was just a boy, forcing himself to grow up too quickly because he lived in a war. Only Fred had family to support him, people who could get him through it, and although Sirius had his best friends… it just wasn't quite the same thing. If something caused Fred to be taken off to jail in a few years' time, well, Emma could picture him coming out twelve years later with much the same maturity as Sirius.

There were only a few days left when she finally stopped Sirius in a corridor and said, "Sirius, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, sweet," he said, obviously lying.

"Don't lie to me," she whispered. "Something's bothering you and I don't want to leave this house without knowing you're going to be okay."

His face softened and he said quietly, "Sweet, I'm going to be just fine. I can't go into battle, remember? I'm probably the safest person in the whole bloody war."

"I don't mean physically," Emma said, frowning. "I mean something's wrong and I don't want to worry about you going crazy here or drinking yourself into madness or something."

Sirius sighed and said, "You're quite a girl, sweet. I don't like being alone. I don't like being locked in this house with all of its memories, and I don't like being apart from Harry. But there's really nothing you can do. Don't worry about me. Remus will drop in, keep an eye on me, and I get Order visitors pretty regularly."

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid?" she implored.

Sirius frowned, looking down at his hands. It was a lot to ask, Emma knew, from the stories she'd been told over the Christmas holiday of his escapades. He did stupid things like other people breathed. But she couldn't help, looking down at this shadow of a man, struggling to become what he should have been, and thinking how badly she wanted him to be safe.

"I'll do my best, sweet," he whispered, picking up her hand and kissing it gently. "You stay safe, you hear? Generally I wouldn't say this, but under the circumstances... Keep your nose clean."

She knew he was talking about Umbridge and not getting detention. Harry Potter wasn't talking about exactly what was going on in his detention, but she knew that it couldn't be good. There was nothing about Umbridge that was anything but terrible, including her fashion sense.

"I promise," she whispered, nodding. "I promise. I'm nobody, anyway. I don't draw a lot of attention to myself."

"Don't say that," Sirius said sadly, smiling. "You're far from nobody, sweet. Fred's a very lucky man."

Emma could feel herself blushing as she looked down at the dusty floor. She felt like the lucky one. Still, she nodded to comfort Sirius, who surely needed the comfort more than she needed to be assured that he knew the truth of the matter between her and Fred. He could think Fred was the lucky one all he wanted if he managed to keep himself alive.

"I'm worried about Fred and George," Emma admitted, more to herself than to Sirius, who just listened because she figured he felt he had to. "They're not interested in school to begin with, but with Umbridge making it so terrible..."

"What do you think they're going to do?" Sirius asked eagerly.

Emma bit her lip, considering. What would they do?

"I don't know," she sighed. "I mean, there are a few things keeping them wanting to stay, but once those things are gone..."

"Like what?"

"Oh, Quidditch, for one," she sighed. "When the Quidditch season's over..."

"George might leave," he whispered. Emma raised her eyebrows at him but he shrugged. "Sweet, I think you're underestimating the power you have over Fred to make him stay. If you don't want him to leave you, I firmly believe that he won't. Even if you give him your blessing, it will be hard enough for him to turn and go."

Emma gave a disbelieving, indulging sort of smile and said, "And you're such the expert because?"

"It's a long story," Sirius muttered, frowning down into his hands and then saying, "You should go to bed, sweet. You've got to be at the station bright and early tomorrow. Good night."

Without another word, Emma watched Sirius get up and leave her sitting alone in the kitchen, confused and hurt that he wouldn't tell her what was on his mind. Not the least bit tired, she made herself some tea and thought over his words, hoping he'd be up to see them off and that they wouldn't be his last words to her before she went back to school.

She was joined not far into her cup by a tired-looking Remus Lupin. He frowned at her slightly before making his own tea and sitting down across from her.

"You're still awake," he said conversationally, as though he'd just said that she'd worn her hair up, or that her lipstick was fading. Well, he probably wouldn't have said those things, but it was the manner her friends might have pointed out one of those things.

"I was talking to Sirius," Emma said with a casual shrug.

"About?"

"He said something... about Fred," she sighed. "He was talking about how Fred would stay no matter what if I asked, but how if I told him to go he would, whether or not he really wanted to leave... I'm sorry, that didn't make a lot of sense without the context, but... I just got the feeling he was speaking from experience. But when I asked, he just went to bed without explaining."

"Ah," Remus sighed. "Yes, that. Well, you're quite right. He... He lost someone, before Lily and James died. I don't expect he'd want to talk about it." He looked down at his tea, considering for a moment. "I will tell you that he blames himself for her death. He would have done anything she asked, and he did when she told him to go ahead and go on a mission with James. When he got back, the Dark Mark was over their house and she was dead on the floor. The Auror's said she'd only been gone an hour or so. He blamed himself for not staying in spite what she said, I know he did. Apparently, he still does."

Emma frowned down at her own tea, feeling a bit sick about the story. Somehow, she didn't think that staying at school while the boys left to follow their dreams would be the death of her, but what if something did happen? Would Fred feel unnecessarily guilty, too?

On the other hand, what if nothing happened at all, and she held him back from properly pursuing his dreams? Even if he didn't hate her for it like he ought to, Emma would have herself for having done such a terrible thing.

For her circumstances, she could let him go, for a little while, when the day came.

"That must have been terrible," she sighed, swallowing before dumping the last of her tea down her throat. "I suppose I ought to try for some sleep. We've got to be going bright and early tomorrow."

"Yes, we have," Remus said thoughtfully. "Good night, Miss-"

"It's Emma," she said quickly. "Please, just call me Emma."

He smiled up at her in a way she just knew had to be said and nodded.

"Of course, Emma."

She felt odd, crawling into bed that night, afraid to go back to Hogwarts for the first time.

The following morning, Emma found herself looking up into a pair of familiar eyes and a smiling, freckled face.

"Good morning, beautiful," Fred whispered. "C'mon, get up and get your things together or Mum's gonna do her nut. She's convinced that we're not going to make it on time, Knight Bus and all."

"We're taking the Knight Bus?" she groaned, dreading a repeat of the experience.

"Don't worry, love!" he laughed. "It won't be that bad. I'll cradle you the whole way, all right?"

Emma couldn't help but smile a bit at that suggestion, and she nodded.

"Thank you," she said softly, smiling up at him as best she could. He paused, though, realizing that something was bothering her and he sat down beside her, running his fingers gently through her hair.

"What's on your mind, love?" he asked softly. "Please, tell me."

Emma sighed, sitting up and taking his hand from her hair down to her cheek and holding her own over it. It felt good, feeling his gentle, callused hands on her skin as he moved his other hand to the other side.

"I love you," she whispered, closing her eyes to savor the feel of his fingertips on her skin. "I really want you to know that."

"I love you too," he muttered, concern in his voice as his lips lingered over hers. She could taste his breath and wanted so badly to kiss him. "But you're not answering my question."

She pressed her lips to his, ignoring his perfectly legitimate statement, getting lost in the taste of his lips, the electric tension between them as his tongue danced once more with hers. Nothing could happen to him. She didn't think she could do without this, this closeness, this passion, not now that she knew how incredible it felt.

He gave in to the kiss for a little while, but he was obviously not to be distracted long, pulling away despite her whimper of protest and saying, "Emma, please talk to me. You're scaring me."

Emma sighed, opening her eyes and looking up into his beautiful, freckled face.

"I'm just a bit paranoid, that's all," she whispered. "I've been spending too much time with the war veterans from when we were kids, you know, like Sirius and Remus, listening to old stories. I'm worried about you. I'm... I'm scared of losing you."

His eyes were about ten times sadder when she said it aloud and she wished in that moment she could have taken it back. A moment later, though, she couldn't complain because he pressed his lips urgently to hers again, his hands sliding down her face, down her chest, around her sides, pulling her body closer to his. She was basically gasping for air when they finally parted the kiss and he rested his forehead on hers.

"I'm not going anywhere, Emma," he whispered fiercely. "You're not going to lose me."

"Please don't make promises you can't keep," she whispered. "I... I don't want to hold you back, either."

"Emma, love, you'd never hold me back," he said with an uneasy chuckle. "C'mon, I don't think you want my mum to find us like this. Come down for breakfast. We're leaving soon. All right?"

She nodded, watching him go as she climbed out of bed, changed her clothes, and threw her pajamas into her trunk. With a sigh, she transported her trunk downstairs, headed to the kitchen for some quick breakfast, and then let Remus and Tonks order her around. She didn't need to think until she was curled up with Fred on the Knight Bus.

"How are you feeling?" he whispered. "Better?"

"Much," she sighed, nuzzling her face against his neck, pleased to feel Fred's arm around her as they lay on the bed. George wasn't being helpful, making kissy faces at them and gagging every time Fred kissed her, but as they didn't get chastised by a chaperone, Emma didn't pay any attention to who might be watching.

Fred made a point of taking care of her things as well as his as they hurried off to the train and settled in a compartment with George. Emma rested my head on Fred's shoulder and cuddled against him. It felt good to be virtually alone with him after so much time surrounded by people at Grimmauld Place.

George seemed to sense this and he muttered, "I reckon I ought to go find Lee," as he stumbled back out of the compartment. Almost as soon as the door closed behind him, Fred, turned to Emma with fire in his eyes that made her tingle with warmth almost instantly.

"Fred," she said, her voice shaking with excitement and anticipation as he made his way toward her, licking his lip a bit in a way she thought was probably subconscious, but definitely sexy.

"Emma," he growled, pulling her in for a kiss that was so much more desperate and passionate than the kiss they'd shared back at Grimmauld Place. Her worries, her inhibitions, it all melted away and she heard a distant sound that she realized after a moment was her moaning into his mouth. Fred pulled her onto his lap, having him straddle his legs, grabbing her bum and pulling their pelvises together, grinding up against her eagerly as their lips and tongues continued to explore each other. Emma could feel herself growing dizzy with lack of air.

Finally, she pulled away, gasping for air, and Fred's lips moved to her neck, nipping and sucking her skin and making her feel her desire and heat building. Without thinking about it, Emma's fingers began running through his silky red locks. She whimpered as his ground into her more forcefully, feeling how hard he was. How quickly they'd gone from sitting on a train with his brother to being absolutely lost to passion. Fred nibbled her neck lightly near the collarbone and her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling it slightly as Fred moaned against her skin.

"I love you," he whispered, running his fingers down her sides as his lips explored every bit of her skin he could reach. After a moment, though, he disappointed her by sighing and resting his forehead on her collarbone.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, running her fingers through his hair, trying to coax him to look up at her.

"You've been off all day," he sighed. "Something's really got you frazzled and it's scaring me."

Emma frowned.

Had she been so off that she had unknowingly behaved out-of-character while they were snogging? She didn't think so.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "What did I do?"

Fred didn't answer, just frowned at her. Finally, he sighed, "Emma, please just talk to me. Please just tell me what's got you all in bunch like this."

Emma nibbled her lip, not sure she wanted to share her conversations with Sirius and Remus, but she finally realized she couldn't withstand his pitiful expression and found herself telling him every word she could recall from the night before, lying down on the compartment seats facing him as she told her story and Fred listened, playing with her hair. When she finished talking he put his arm around her waist and pulled her in tighter against him.

"If it comes down to leaving," he whispered, "would you want me to stay?"

She reached up to run her fingers through his hair, pulling her forehead to his as she considered the things that had been on her mind since her talk with Sirius. Would she? What if Hogwarts had become so bad that she didn't think she could be without him? But what if nothing happened and she ended up keeping him from his dreams for no reason? She swallowed heavily as he whispered her name again as a prompt.

"I honestly don't know," she sighed. "There are so many factors that could come into play. I... Just promise me that you talk to me before you go if you can. If it does come down to that, I want to know that you aren't just going to make up your mind based on what you think is best for me, one way or the other. Please."

"Of course," Fred whispered, pressing his lips to hers. "Anything you want, love. Anything at all."

Emma wished she could have been able to count on that for anything, truly. But she knew that there were exceptions to every rule and no matter how much Fred loved her he would make mistakes. She'd seen everyone break promises they had every intention of keeping, even herself as terrible as it made her feel, and she knew Fred would be no exception, but as his lips kept assaulting hers, drowning her in passion, Emma didn't even want to think about how he might have to break that promise someday. Indeed, she couldn't have thought of anything at all if her life had depended on it, the moan rewarding his efforts proving how deeply he had her hooked.


	12. Valentine's Day

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to new reader **_**Forever9SNSD**_**! Thank you for reading this story and adding it to your favorites and alerts, giving me that kick in the pants I needed to start this chapter even as Camp NaNoWriMo is in gear. Love you all, and thank you for your continued support!**

** -J**

The paper had horrific news two days later: 10 Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban in the night while Emma had been sleeping in Fred's arms, thinking she was perfectly safe. Fred's eyes nearly popped out of his head as Tien tossed the paper in front of the group at the Gryffindor table.

For once, the plucky Asian was at a loss for words.

The teenagers sat in silence, staring down at the ferocious and terrifying faces on the front page. Fred was clutching Emma's hand tightly as they all stared and no one dared pick it up to read it aloud to them all, as though by touching the parchment would summon the Death Eaters to the room with them.

But there was one face in particular that was terrifying to Emma: Bellatrix Lestrange, cousin of Sirius Black.

For all the reasons Sirius was an attractive, comforting person, his cousin looked like the wife of the devil himself. Those wild, dark eyes almost saw into Emma's soul, and she wanted it to go away. As soon as she could, she got out of the Great Hall, not even looking around as she heard Fred following her out.

"Emma," he said firmly. "Love, you barely touched breakfast."

"I couldn't eat," she admitted, hoisting her bag over her shoulder. "Not with those faces looking up at me."

"Creepy, yeah," he sighed, slipping his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together. "You know we don't have class for another half hour?"

Emma blinked.

"Right," she said. "Right, I knew that."

Fred chuckled lightly.

"Whatever you say, dear."

The day was a bit of a blur. It turned out, she learned from word-of-mouth that she thought might have originated from Ron, Hermione, and Harry, that a Ministry employee who had been hospitalized during the holidays (not Arthur Weasley), had been strangled by a plant. There was no doubt about it. It had to have been a Death Eater, Fred said as he paced the bit of space in the room they'd decided to study in. Emma didn't watch him, didn't want him to see how nervous she was.

But he must have known. He knew that she was thinking about how serious the war was getting, about how dangerous it all was. Finally, he sat down across from her, taking her hand and giving her the most comforting look he had.

"It's going to be all right, love," he said softly. "Dumbledore's here. We're safe with Dumbledore."

Emma didn't want to put out everything that had happened under Dumbledore's watch, including the death of Cedric Diggory. She wanted it to go away, all of it. She wanted to feel safe again, even if she was naively closing her eyes to truth. But she couldn't, not knowing what she knew.

The next day, Educational Decree 26 had passed, stating that teachers were not allowed to give out information that didn't pertain to the classes they taught. Emma hadn't thought that was much of a big deal, couldn't figure out what Umbridge was trying to accomplish about that, but Tien shook her head.

"You don't get it," the Asian girl sighed. "She's increasing her power, trying to keep the teachers from undermining her authority. For one thing, nobody's going to be able to help us in Defense, even if they really wanted to."

There was more to the story, they were sure, and it had to do with the war and it had to do with Harry Potter, because ever since that boy's first year everything big seemed to have something to do with him. Emma tried to think of ways the new decree would change her daily life, but nothing came to mind. It probably would be frustrating for some, but most people were just upset that there were even more restrictions from the horrid toad of a woman. It just opened the door for even more decrees that were sure to be more difficult on them all.

Day to day, not much had changed on the outside, but for Emma everything felt different on the inside. The anxiety, the fear, the constant feeling that something terrible was about to happen... She hated it. It was nerve-wracking. Professor Flitwick had actually called her to his office one day and made some biscuits dance for her, trying to cheer her up, she'd been so out of sorts. He didn't really make too much of an effort to interrogate her about what was wrong, though, perhaps because he thought it would be better if she didn't say, perhaps because he didn't want to be forced to not help her feel better or break the rules of the new decree.

The very fact that she'd been called in drove Fred up the wall with anxiety, even though she tried to tell him that it was because Professor Flitwick was concerned, not that anything was wrong. She knew how contradictory what she'd said was, but she didn't want to think about it, hoping that if she told herself everything was fine, it would eventually feel fine, too, and then be fine.

But the world didn't work like that, she knew. It didn't feel fine, and it wouldn't be fine unless the Ministry stood up to the threat and took action, which they would never do as long as Fudge was in charge. She'd been so happy to be a part of the Wizarding world when she was eleven, like she was a member of an elite secret society. Now she wished briefly that she could go back to her life as a Muggle, that she could be safe and happy that way, even though she knew that she couldn't be happy and wouldn't be safe.

Not much changed for a while, though. At least, nothing seemed to get any worse. Emma focused on the Valentine's Hogsmeade date Fred had promised her and what she would wear. Since he wouldn't tell her what they were doing, she wasn't exactly sure what to wear, but Katie managed to throw together an outfit for her that supposedly suited any possible romantic endeavor.

Of course, this was Fred, and one could never be fully prepared, but it was the best Emma could really hope for, so she thanked Katie as she pulled on her blue sweater dress and tights on the morning of the fourteenth.

Fred practically attacked her at breakfast, cuddling her, telling her how beautiful she was, pushing chocolate things onto her plate. Emma could only blush as their friends watched on, grinning. She also noticed Alicia glaring at her from the end of the table, but even Alicia Spinnet's jealously couldn't ruin the absolutely perfect breakfast, Fred wrapping his arms around her, kissing her neck and saying, "Happy Valentine's Day, baby."

Emma had no idea how he planned to top breakfast, but Fred always had something up his sleeve. As they made their way down to Hogsmeade they split off from the crowd early. Fred led Emma down to the Hogs Head.

"Fred, this place is a dump," she giggled as they approached. "What are we doing here?"

"Where else am I going to get you your first real drink, baby?" he said with a grin.

Emma groaned.

He was going to make her drink Firewhiskey, which the boys had been trying to do for years.

Fred ordered drinks and brought them back to the table where Emma had sat, frowning at him with pursed lips, trying to keep from grinning at how excited he looked.

"Here you go," he said, pushing the bottle in front of her.

Emma eyed it nervously, but she put her fingers around the dusty bottle and pulled it up to her lips.

Fred watched her take her first sips and smiled as she spluttered.

"It gets easier after a bit," he said, laughing as she glared at him. "C'mon, Emma, just give it another try, love."

She sighed, bracing herself as she took some more sips of the burning liquid, realizing that it wasn't quite as bad as she'd previously expected. She took another quick gulp for experimentation and Fred took the bottle from her hand, setting it down on the table.

"Careful there, love," he said with a grin, kissing her cheek. "It hits you pretty fast. I wouldn't want you losing your grip."

"I'm not worried," she said honestly. "You're here to protect me."

"Aw," he said, and she loved the way his neck turned pink. "I love you, Emma."

"I love you too," she whispered, kissing his sweet, pink neck. "So, what else are we doing? You know, other than you trying to get me drunk."

"Emma!" he said, pretending to be scandalized. "I'm surprised at you! I would never do such a thing! Anyway, I was thinking we test the capabilities of the Room of Requirement."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Emma shushed him, only half-urgently.

"Fred," she whined, "we don't want people to know about that!"

"Who's going to overhear?" he countered. "Besides, it's not like they know how to get in. Please, baby? I'll take you anywhere you want beforehand."

She couldn't argue with that, so she insisted that they get chocolate before heading back up to the school and they finished up their drinks as quickly as possible without Emma getting completely tipsy. They made a quick stop at Honeydukes where Fred bought Emma several bars of her favorite chocolate and then he led her eagerly back up to the school where they hurried up to the seventh floor as quietly as they could, not wanting to run afoul of Filch or Umbridge as they went up to the Room of Requirement.

Emma watched Fred pace, a look of concentration on his face as he walked, and when an ornate door appeared on his third passing, she grinned, letting him lead her inside.

The room was nothing like their practice room for the DA. She found, instead, that there was a large, fluffy-looking bed, a fireplace roaring in the corner, and even an attached shower. She sighed, smiling broadly as Fred led her over to the bed, a dopey grin on his own face.

"Is this all right?" he asked as they bounced onto the bed, moving some of the numerous, squishy pillows out of the way to make room for their bodies.

"Perfect," Emma sighed, letting him lay her back on a small pile of pillows and brush a bit of her wind-swept hair out of her face before kissing her gently. She surrendered to the kiss, surrendered to him generally, letting him give her the best Valentine's Day in memory, doing her best to do everything she could think of that she knew he loved as they went about knocking the pillows off the massive bed and making noise they hoped that anyone outside the room wouldn't be able to hear, not sure what the limitations of the Room of Requirement were, but being too far gone to truly care. Emma couldn't have asked for a better day, and she was sure that wasn't the firewhiskey talking.

Fred gave her one more once over, kissing as much of her body as he could reach as he went along, cuddling her and muttering things about why he loved her. Emma could have gotten used to it. He moved back up to her face, lightly pecking her lips before wrapping his arms lovingly around her and sighing into her neck. Knowing he was worried about something, Emma ran her fingers through his hair, getting them caught up in his sweaty, tangled red locks and preparing herself for a conversation about the war, because that's what it was always about.

"I think we're going to have to leave," he whispered. "Not soon, but we will. It's only going to get worse here, from what I got out of Remus and Sirius over the break. Umbridge is pretty evil and she's not going to stop until she gets what she wants or we make her stop."

"Who's 'we' and how would that work, exactly?" Emma asked, her voice shaking in spite of her best efforts.

"The Order, maybe," Fred said with a shrug. "The DA, perhaps. I think there's got to be some way, but I haven't thought of it yet."

"Thought of it?" Emma muttered, sitting up at little, looking down at Fred's face. "You're going to try to bring her down, aren't you? You and George." She sighed. "Well, you can't be said to be unambitious. I suppose you two don't have any idea how you might pull it off?"

"Erm, yes," Fred said sheepishly. "You know how she is about order. And, well, you know how good George and I are at causing disorder..."

"Only the best," Emma teased, sliding back down a bit on the bed and kissing his chest before snuggling in tighter against him. "I love you, you know that?"

"Yeah," Fred sighed. "I love you, too."

He kissed her hair gently, running his hand up and down her back with a feather-light touch.

"What are you going to say when the day comes when George and I have to make that decision?" Fred whispered. "What are you going to do?"

Emma nibbled her lip, thinking about what it might feel like to have Fred say he had to make that choice, and what she was going to have to say.

"I can't keep you here," she sighed against his skin. "It wouldn't be fair to you or right of me to keep you from George and your joke business. I mean, you already have the space, don't you?"

"Yeah," Fred whispered. "We do. But he could run it without me if you really wanted me or needed me here, Emma. I'm not leaving you if you really don't want me to. I promise."

"I know," Emma whispered. "But I think it's what's best for you, leaving with George, when the time comes. I'm not going to change my mind and regret it later. You need to leave when you need to, and not stay because I ask."

"If you're sure," Fred sighed, tracing spirals on her bare back with his fingertip. "You won't change your mind when the time comes?"

"I won't change my mind," Emma assured him.

He pursed his lips together, frowning slightly. Something was still on his mind.

"What?" she whispered, kissing his neck.

"If I asked, when the time came," he whispered, looking down at her, "would you come with us?"

Emma frowned a bit, trying to understand what Fred had just asked her. Surely he hadn't asked what she thought he was asking.

"You want me to come with you?" she clarified. "You want me to leave Hogwarts?"

"Not right away," he assured her quickly. "But, you know, when the time comes."

Emma nibbled her lip, considering. She did want to go with him, but there were things she would need to stay at school for, things she knew the boys didn't care about.

"Fred, I do not want to work in your shop," she sighed. "I want a job that requires N.E.W.T.s. I can't just pack up and leave whatever day you and George decide is a good day for it."

"Right," he muttered. "Right. I didn't think about that. I guess I have to think about this for a minute."

"Take your time," Emma teased.

Fred flicked her noise playfully.

"What if I make you a deal?" he muttered, pressing his lips against her ear. "What if we say that you stay if we leave before N.E.W.T.s, and leave with us if we hold out to the end of the exams?"

Emma smiled, knowing he'd picked it specifically so that she could come away with him, so that there was some way for her to come away with him, even though she knew the chances of them leaving after N.E.W.T.s were slim. Still, she fully appreciated the gesture, and decided it was a deal she could more than live with.

"All right," she whispered with a smile. "If you leave after N.E.W.T.s are over, I'll go with you. That sounds lovely."

He grinned, pulling her into an even tighter hug and kissing the top of her head.

"Where would we go?" she asked after several moments.

"We're getting a place with a flat above it," he whispered, kissing her cheek. "We would go there, at least until my mum calms down a bit."

"Would she blame me?" Emma whispered, sitting up a bit, looking down at him with worry filling the pit of her stomach. "I mean, if I go with you, she might think it's my fault somehow, and if I stay, she might say I didn't try hard enough to keep you here. She might think-"

Fred cut off her worried rant with a sweet, chaste kiss and then whispered, "If she thinks that, she's lost her mind. Anyway, she's used to blaming us for things. I doubt she'll look any further than George and me for scapegoats."

Emma tried to let herself be assuaged, although she didn't feel particularly happy about their mother liking to blame them, either, but she would take what she could get. She cuddled into Fred's warm arms and almost wished that she could just take it all back and demand they run away that very moment, run far away to somewhere where the war and the chaos that was about to rain down on them the moment You-Know-Who came out into the open couldn't touch them, couldn't affect their love, their life together.

Because what she couldn't bring herself to say out loud was that she was terrified of losing him.


	13. Chocolate Dream

"How was Quidditch?" Emma muttered as Fred kissed her neck, crawling behind her on the chair she was using in the library while she studied, his legs straddling her lower back. Sure, he wasn't allowed Quidditch anymore, but Fred was still eagerly paying attention to it.

"Terrible," he sighed. "Ron was just horrible. I honestly think we're going to have the worst season in history. Is that possible at this point?"

"I suppose," Emma shrugged. "I don't really know statistics. You'd be better off writing a letter to Wood."

"No," Fred said urgently, and loud enough that Emma had to shush him. "No, I'm not telling him what a disgrace we are this year. I'm not going to be the one to deliver that blow."

"Hmm, guess you'll never know, then," Emma said with a giggle as his lips began tracing the line of her neck that he had become so familiar with. "You know, I'm trying to study, Fred."

"Studying's boring," he whined in her ear. "I want to touch you."

"Not here!" she hissed, almost forgetting what she was protesting as his fingers began tracing up her legs from her bare knees. "Fred."

He didn't stop and he was nearing her panties.

"Fred."

He groaned.

"Whatever," he sighed. "I guess I can wait if this studying thing is so important to you."

She knew he was lying, trying to get her to say that nothing was more important than him. But Emma wasn't really in the mood to play that game. She was drowning in Potions homework as Snape seemed to have made it his personal mission that she didn't have time for any personal life. She couldn't see why he should care. She'd hardly missed a day of his class, and any normal professor wouldn't be holding on to one of the first days of the school year so hardily, but she'd heard that Snape could hold grudges with the best of them.

"Emma," Fred finally whined, "are you done yet? I'm bored."

"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it?" she teased. "Just relax, love. I've got a lot of work to do. If I can't keep you entertained, maybe you ought to go find someone else to entertain you."

"But baby," he whined, "I want to be with you."

"Then keep your mouth shut and let me study," she sighed.

He shifted regularly behind her as the minutes went by. She wondered why he was shifting, at first writing it off as his inability to sit still for longer than about five minutes, but then she felt a bulge in his trousers bumping into her lower back as he shifted.

"Fred," she moaned, "not now!"

"I can't help it," he sighed. "I had a lovely daydream of shagging you on the table here and I... Well, you know."

Emma shook her head, pushing Fred away.

"Out," she snapped softly. "Go. We'll talk about practice later. You're incapable of not distracting me and I'm not dealing with this."

In spite of being forced out of the library, Fred grinned as he was leaving and said, "Glad to know I'm a capable distraction, darling."

Emma just rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but be amused.

Gryffindor lost that week. Only ten points, which was good, really, but it was a loss nonetheless. As they had said two years prior after the loss to Hufflepuff, there was still a chance, but Ron was no Oliver Wood, and the spirits were not high for the future. Emma didn't care much either way, except that it mattered so much to Fred and George and Katie and Angelina that she couldn't help but care just a bit.

At the beginning of the next week, something happened that Emma never thought would. The whole school was buzzing about the latest edition of _The Quibbler_.

What Emma was able to piece together was that Harry had given Rita Skeeter an exclusive interview on Valentine's Day (which wasn't exactly what Emma thought of as a great Valentine's Day, but who was she to judge?) about what happened with Voldemort coming back, how Cedric really died, and what was really going on.

It all started at breakfast, where a massive amount of mail came in for Harry, which they began eagerly helping him open. Some people believed him, others wrote to say that he was mad, but he was actually convincing people.

Toady hadn't liked that too much, as she expressed when she came by to figure out exactly why he had a whole flock of owls dropping off mail for Harry Potter. She not only gave that evil smile she gave when she was about to do something horrible, but he was basically told he wouldn't be allowed at Hogsmeade again until further notice, which meant never if she got her way. Emma couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him.

By lunch, _The Quibbler_ was deemed contraband. Any student found with a copy of the paper in hand would be severely punished. Naturally, as Tien pointed out, that meant that everyone would have it read and passed along by dinner.

"What do you mean?" Emma asked as they sat down for lunch. "If they get caught-"

"You do know how rarely students get caught with contraband compared with how many have it, right?" Fred teased. "Trust me, love, she's right. She's basically ensured that everyone will read it, which is exactly the opposite of what she wanted. She's not very good with kids, obviously."

"I don't think she's particularly good with humans in general," Emma sighed. "I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens. Maybe this could be a massive turning point."

"I don't think so," George said thoughtfully. "I think it will do a lot, but it's not made quite enough of an impact to be a real turning point. The results won't be drastic enough. Pass me the chicken."

"Say please," Emma said, almost out of habit.

"See, Freddie?" George said with a laugh. "She's all ready to be a Weasley matriarch!"

Luna Lovegood, much to Tien's ghoulish delight, went around telling people that the interview had been the best-selling issue ever, and that her father was reprinting it.

"Brilliant," Tien sighed happily. "Now she's going to delusions of grandeur."

"She's already got delusions of grandeur," Emma pointed out tiredly. "What exactly do you expect this to change?"

"I don't know, but it's bound to be brilliant!" Tien squealed happily.

Emma sighed, flipping through the lingerie catalog Katie had loaned her while Tien was taking notes on something for a product she was helping George develop, something she claimed was 'top secret'.

Somehow, Emma didn't know what was so wrong with Luna being proud of her father's success, and she couldn't imagine how it was going to make Luna any stranger than usual, but she wasn't going to argue. She flipped through the lingerie magazine and sighed, marking another outfit she thought Fred would like.

"What are you even doing?" Tien asked. "I never thought I'd catch you with one of those things."

"Fred's birthday's in a month," Emma sighed. "I'm figuring out his present."

"I like the way you think," Tien teased. "I bet Freddie will, too. What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, a few things are interesting," Emma said with a shrug, looking around to make sure no one could overhear them. "Like this one," she said, marking an outfit and handing the magazine over to Tien, who giggled at it.

The outfit was a role-playing outfit. The wearer would be, as the caption to the picture said, a naughty schoolgirl. It was almost a Hogwarts uniform, just missing quite a lot of the typical material. The shirt was far sheerer than her usual shirt, and happened to show the whole of her stomach, and the skirt was hardly able to be called a shirt.

"It's not bad," Tien agreed. "But you can do better."

"I know," Emma sighed. "That's why I'm thinking it over. Can I have the magazine back now?"

"Sure," Tien said with a shrug. "I think you'd be better off just lying in his bed nude with a bunch of chocolates surrounding you or something. That would turn him on."

"You think he's some sort of choco-phile?"

"Yeah, I do," Tien said with a shrug. "And I've heard him telling George how he dreams of you bathing in a tub of chocolate, beckoning him in. Apparently, they're his favorite dreams."

"I'm guessing you didn't acquire this information in an appropriate manner," Emma teased, "but I thank you for the information, all the same!"

It was something to consider, she realized, figuring out his fantasies, and the place she would have to go for that was George. As much as she didn't want to, Emma realized, pushing the thought to the back of her mind for the moment, that she would have to talk with George about what she was going to do for Fred.

A couple of weeks later, a major event occurred that may have had no direct bearing on Emma's life, but had extreme significance in the climate of the future she was going to have to face.

She hadn't been present when it happened, but she'd heard the story from dozens of varied sources, and it seemed that the tale grew taller with each version, until Tien's retelling finally involved death.

"Nobody died," George said, smirking. "Basically, Trelawney got sacked, Emma. That's really all you need to know."

"But there's more," Emma pointed out. "So that's not all there is to know."

"Basically," Fred sighed, "Umbridge makes a public spectacle of the thing, McGonagall goes and publically supports Trelawney, which is the last thing anybody expected considering the fact that McGoangall thinks that Trelawney's a fraud and that Divination is a load of shite, but anyway, Umbridge is all set to kick Trelawney off grounds when Dumbledore comes around and basically says she doesn't have the power to kick Trelawney off the grounds, and not only that but that he's already found her replacement and in walks a centaur, plain as day, and you should have seen the look on Umbridge's face."

Emma shook her head.

"Dumbledore needs to be careful and choose his battles," she whispered, looking up at the head table. "I feel like Trelawney isn't worth the effort."

Fred shrugged.

"Who knows? Dumbledore's got all kinds of secrets and quirks. Maybe they're lovers."

There was a collective groan of disgust and several people pushed their plates into the center of the table. Even Fred was wincing at the thought of his own suggestion.

"All right, that was too far," he admitted, "but you get when I mean."

Emma shifted, wondering what all secrets Dumbledore was keeping, even from the Order. She wondered what sort of danger those secrets could put a person in, especially a person not knowing them. She wondered if Dumbledore's secretive nature could end up hurting Fred, or even Emma, and in that moment, imagining the worst, Emma didn't like Dumbledore all that much.

He had always seemed this amiable old man, caring, omniscient, and even friendly. But when she looked up at the head table in that moment that wasn't what she saw. Instead he seemed crafty, and that knowing sparkle in his eyes that she really couldn't see from her table but knew was there was something almost vicious behind it.

Emma decided in that moment that if Albus Dumbledore was in some way responsible for any harm coming to Fred because of his secrets, she would do something completely out of character for herself, something she knew was probably foolish: Seek her revenge.

The fact of the matter was she had the sudden feeling of being a pawn, and in her limited knowledge of chess from the twins' attempts to teach her, Emma knew that it was exactly the sort of piece she didn't want to be. Those blue eyes didn't meet hers, but maybe that was for the best.

Before Emma really knew what was happening, it was April first, and she was praying that she would be able to pull off her plan, with Katie's help.

Emma was just tapping the side of the tub with her wand to melt the rest of the chocolate and laying towels Angelina had charmed against staining around the foot of the tub and the floor when Katie led Fred into the bathroom they'd put an "Out of Order" sign on, blindfolded. Katie winked as she slipped back out the door, closing it behind her and giggling.

"Katie?" Fred said, frowning. "Are you still there? Where am I? I can smell chocolate. Did you get me a stash or something?"

"You could say that," Emma said in her best teasing voice, stepping into the tub and sinking into the warm, melted chocolate just before flicking her wand to remove the blindfold.

Fred's jaw dropped instantly.

"Please tell me you're not staining any of your pretty clothes in there," he teased with a smirk when he finally found his words again.

"Of course not," Emma sighed, leaning her head back against the edge of the tub, her hair done up so that it didn't get _too_ much chocolate in it.

He moaned, biting his lip a bit as she dipped her finger into the chocolate and lifted it up to her mouth to suck off the sweet, melted goodness.

"Mind if I join you, beautiful?" he finally managed to choke out.

"I was beginning to think you were going to leave me in here alone," she teased, watching how fast Fred went about scrambling out of his clothes with a grin.

It was hardly thirty seconds later when he was sinking into the chocolate beside her, pulling her on top of him, the chocolate between them serving as a sticky barrier for their skin. Fred pressed his lips hungrily to hers, running his chocolate-covered fingers across her face, down her neck, clasping her neck as he kissed her. Emma couldn't help but moan into his mouth, smelling the chocolate all around them, tasting him and the chocolate between their tongues. She was glad Tien had told her about this, told her of his fantasy, because she'd never experienced such a deliciously erotic moment in her life. His other arm wrapped around her waist in the chocolate, pulling her tighter to him as they kissed.

After several minutes kissing languidly like that, Fred positioned her so that she was straddling his lap, her breasts just peeking out over the surface of the molten chocolate, her nipples just resting on the surface. He moaned as he gazed at them.

Fred leaned forward and used his tongue to clean off her chest, from the collarbone down to her cleavage before taking her left nipple in his mouth, sucking away the film of chocolate that covered it before turning and giving the same treatment to the right.

They eventually decided that it wasn't going to be the best place to actually consummate their ever-growing desires, so they climbed out of the tub, licked each other clean on the towel, then making their way to the shower to clean of more conventionally and make love.

Maybe it was Emma's imagination, but she thought he might have been more unrestrained, more desperate in the way he made love to her that day in the shower, pushing her against the wall of the shower and ignoring her moans of mixed pain and pleasure as the faucet handle dug into her back because he was too busy pounding into her.

When they'd finished several times (Emma was in no condition to count, she'd decided early on), Fred and Emma were curled up on the floor of the shower, their bodies somewhat intertwined in a way that a less youthful, exuberant couple might have found uncomfortable, but they were so sated, so delirious with what they'd just accomplished, that they didn't really think about how tired they were.

"That was the most incredible thing," Fred sighed finally, nuzzling his face against her neck, the water still running down on their spent forms. "I don't know how you managed it, but you just guessed my favorite fantasy."

Emma nibbled her lip lightly, getting the last remnants of chocolate off, wondering whether or not she should tell him, but before she really had a chance to decide Fred began nibbling on her neck and she sighed, forgetting there was ever any such dilemma. Her fingers laced into his hair and she gripped tightly, pulling him closer, wishing she could just meld into him, that she could just become a part of him and never have to be without him ever again.

But she couldn't do that.

And Emma knew that no matter how she tried to ignore the fact, she was terrified that they were two separate people, that she couldn't keep him with her all the time. He needed his freedom, he needed to be able to leave when the time came for him and George to leave. There would be nothing left for him at Hogwarts but her, and could she really keep him there, in good faith? No, she couldn't, but she wanted to so badly, and the feel of his mouth on her neck made that ring out in her mind twice as strong as it did through all other parts of her day.

But as Emma ran her fingers through Fred's drenched hair, she knew that no matter what was right and what she wanted, the decision was going to hurt either way.

"I love you," she whispered. "I love you so, so much."

"I love you, too," Fred sighed, kissing her cheek so gently that she barely felt it at all. But the way it made her feel inside, knowing he cared about her, knowing that she at least had the option to ask him to stay, whether or not she chose to use it.


	14. Turning Point

On Monday, the chocolate bath was still fresh in Emma's mind as she and Fred were practicing the Patronus Charm in the DA meeting. Fred was getting a shield form every time; Emma figured it was because he was too easily distracted and couldn't concentrate on a single memory so long.

It was getting late, though, when Emma decided to focus on her first kiss with Fred, knowing that he loved her like she loved him, and the raw emotion encompassed with that passionate embrace. She said the incantation and closed her eyes, letting herself be filled with the memory.

"Emma!" Katie squealed excitedly, and Emma's eyes flew open to find a silvery vixen playing at her feet. "You did it!"

Emma barely had time to comprehend her victory when a small, oddly-dressed house-elf came whirring into the room, frantic to inform Harry that Umbridge was on her way, that she knew where to find them, and that they had to get out of there.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Harry said to the DA, who were staring at him and the house-elf in silence. "RUN!"

It was chaos as they ran urgently through the halls, fighting of the Inquisitorial Squad members on their way, and Fred had Emma by the hand, leading her away to some spot she knew he thought would keep them safe.

Fred pulled her into a cupboard and locked it, warded it, and sealed it shut until he decided they were safe.

"It's okay," he whispered, hugging Emma to him tightly, petting her hair and comforting her shaking form as best he could. "It's okay. The house-elf gave us proper warning at great personal risk. We all got out okay, I think. Do you Patronus, love. I didn't get a proper look."

He was asking her to do it because he knew it would comfort her, Emma knew. Patronuses were the very embodiment of happiness and comfort, but they also came from extreme happiness, a memory of unquenchable happiness.

"I can't," Emma whispered against his chest, shaking. "I'm too scared."

Fred sighed.

"Emma, if you come face-to-face with a dementor, you're not going to be any less scared than this, probably a lot more. Just give it a try, okay?"

He kissed her neck gently and she nodded, trying to think of the happiest thing she could, trying to recall the emotions of the memory she'd used before...

But they seemed so much slipperier than before, so much harder to get ahold of, and when she whispered the incantation little more than a silvery wisp came from her wand, and she sighed with disappointment.

"It will come with practice, love," Fred whispered comfortingly, kissing her forehead. "It's all right. We'll just practice together more. Everything's going to be fine."

Except everything was not going to be fine and they both knew it, but in that moment Emma was contented just to wrap her arms around Fred's neck and hold onto him like a child being cradled by her mother.

She had actually fallen asleep with her head on his chest, although she wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep. Fred gently shook her away and whispered, "Emma, I think it's safe to go back to Gryffindor Tower. We need to find out what happened, love."

"Mmm," Emma moaned, trying to make sense of his words with her sleepy mind.

"Sweetheart, come on. Wake up."

"M'awake," she muttered, blinking her eyes open to find that they were still in the darkness of the cupboard he'd hidden them in. "We're going back, then?"

"Yeah, c'mon," he sighed, getting both of them onto their feet. "Up you get."

The pair of them left the cupboard, trying to make their way back to Gryffindor Tower as casually as possible.

"Do the corridors seem... _quiet_ to you?" Emma whispered as they neared the Fat Lady's portrait. Fred nodded.

"It's like the usual patrolling isn't happening," Fred muttered. "Which makes me think they caught somebody."

"Who?" she breathed as they turned the corner.

"Somebody so important that it would make it less worthwhile to go after the rest of us than to interrogate that one person," he whispered.

Harry.

She chewed on her lip anxiously as Fred gave the Fat Lady the password and they climbed into the common room to find their friends, the Creeveys, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sitting around in a circle, staring at a spot on the floor between them.

"Do we know what happened yet?" Fred asked, sitting down in an armchair and pulling Emma into his lap.

"No," Hermione sighed anxiously. "I suppose you two were hiding out?"

"Yeah, and Emma decided to take a nap," Fred said teasingly, kissing Emma's neck as she blushed. "Did anyone get caught but Harry?"

"We don't think so," George assured them. "We know the rest of the Gryffindors got back okay, anyway. Hermione's been trying to get messages back from the others, but Cho Chang and her buddy haven't responded yet, and we're pretty sure Luna's okay, although none of us really understood what she was talking about."

"Oh, Merlin, Tien!" I gasped. "Is Tien okay?"

"Is Tien ever _not_ okay?" George laughed. "She's just fine, trust me, Emma."

He was right, of course, and Emma began to instantly breathe easier, but there was still a layer of uneasiness with the group at large.

"Why do you think they haven't responded yet?" Ginny whispered.

"I can only think of one," Hermione said nervously. "Either one or both of them sold us out, and I can't say I'm too excited to speculate on which one of them did it."

"Probably Cho Chang," Emma muttered in a tone that could have been Tien speaking, and everyone blinked at her in surprise. "What?" she questioned indignantly. "Tien and I are friends for a reason, you know."

"Harry would be so upset if it were," Ginny said softly.

It wasn't exactly a secret that Harry Potter had gone on a date with Cho Chang on Valentine's Day, and even less of a secret that it had ended rather disastrously.

By the morning, all of the DA members knew what had happened: Marietta Edgecombe had told on them to Umbridge (as evidenced by Hermione's curse that put the word 'sneak' across her face in boils which Tien thought was absolutely brilliant). Harry had been caught and very nearly expelled, but for some reason Dumbledore took the blame for the group, Fudge attempted to arrest him, and he escaped and was on the run... somewhere. Emma wondered where Dumbledore might go as a fugitive, but she really couldn't think of anywhere too spectacular.

"Where do you think he is?" she asked Fred, careful not to be loud enough to be overheard by someone who would report to Umbridge.

Toad-Face had become the new headmistress, although the gargoyle wasn't letting her into Dumbledore's office, much to the amusement of everyone. Still, she was far from powerless, and she had Inquisitorial Squad members everywhere, being her eyes and ears, not to mention the already-formidable force of Filch and Mrs. Norris.

"I don't know," Fred said with a shrug. "You can bet he's not wasting time hiding, though."

He was probably right about that, Emma thought. Dumbledore would be out doing things important for the Order, essential to the war. While I was supposed to be glad, pleased that Dumbledore would be going on, doing things that needed to be done, that only he could do. He would have more time for the war effort.

But what would come of Hogwarts? They still had McGonagall, and she was an Order member. And... well, so was Snape, although he didn't make Emma feel particularly safe. Even though many of the other professors, such as Flitwick, weren't in the Order, she knew they would do what they could for the safety and well-being of the students. That was something.

The rule changes were swift and many, though, and more and more students were finding themselves in detention, Emma, Fred, George, and all their friends, because their names were on the list of students who had been a part of Dumbledore's Army. When she'd first introduced the group to the blood quills, Emma thought she was trying to scare them into giving up more information, into selling Harry out, but they actually did cut words into their skin, and Emma nearly fainted.

"This can't go on like this," Fred growled after their afternoon detention, holding Emma's hand and dabbing a paste Hermione had made onto the wound. "I'm not letting it keep on this way. I'm not letting her hurt you."

Not that he had much say, Emma thought as she accepted the attempts at healing her hand, enjoying the way his fingertips brought the healing paste to her skin, the way it made the throbbing dull and then disappear, at least temporarily.

She curled up against him during their free time, wishing she didn't have to leave him, but knowing that they had to go on as always.

Later that day, the twins set off their new Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, extravagant fireworks that were sure to put Filibuster out of business because Harry was being 'interrogated' by Umbridge, probably because of Dumbledore. Emma watched the fireworks, watched Filch and Umbridge try to get rid of them, and while they were beautiful and she was proud of Fred and George, she couldn't help but feel a bit sad as she watched the struggle to get rid of the fireworks that raged on.

Soon, she knew, the twins would be leaving.

Several days later marked the beginning of the Easter Holiday, and they stayed at Hogwarts, Emma studying for her N.E.W.T.s and the twins plotting various things for the joke shop. Emma couldn't help but frown as she sat at Fred's feet in the library, books spread around her, trying to focus on her Herbology charts while she knew Fred was plotting the things that would take him from her. There wasn't a doubt in her mind anymore: they were leaving. They had to. Even if Fred asked her, Emma would have to tell him to go, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"Emma?" he asked, gently massaging her scalp with his finger tips and looking down at her with an amused smile on his face. "You okay down there? You've been rather quiet."

"Of course I've been quiet, Fred," she sighed, stretching her arms and leaning back into his leg, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of his fingertips in her hair. "I've only got six weeks left to exams and I'm taking quite a lot of classes."

Perhaps she wasn't really taking a lot of classes, but compared to their three classes and what she was sure would be zero tests, her schedule looked daunting.

He knew she was worried, of course, but he didn't press the issue, not while they were together in the library with George. They were trying to make the most of their time without classes, after all, and that meant him working on his work, her working on her revision, and the two of them meeting up to spend the nights in each other's arms for the whole of the holiday. Even the presence of Umbridge at Hogwarts wasn't going to stop them from going on as they had been with their love life.

So Emma just kissed the leg of Fred's trousers, knowing George couldn't see, knowing that it was a gesture shared just between her and Fred, and trying not to feel too sad as she looked up at him and saw him smile thoughtfully down at her.

Fred being thoughtful never meant anything good for Emma. Not when he was being thoughtful in front of her. It would lead to his leaving, and she didn't want to think about that, not before she had to, so she just looked back down at her Herbology text and tried to not let the tears welling up in her eyes fall to the pages.

As it turned out, Emma didn't have long before she had to face reality.

It was the first Monday after Easter when Fred pulled her aside, a serious expression on his face, and she knew exactly what he was going to say.

"Emma," he said gently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "I need to talk with you."

She nodded. She wasn't sure why they needed to drag this out. She knew what he was going to say. She knew he was going to leave her. What more was there to it?

"Harry needs a distraction," he whispered. "He needs to see Sirius, so the time is right for us to enact our big finale. But... if... if you don't want me to go, Emma, I'll stay here. George doesn't need me to do it, and he'll take off and start the shop up in Diagon Alley and I can keep running things here and-"

Emma pressed her finger to his lips, silencing him. He looked at her, surprised, curious.

"Fred," she sighed, "you need to go. She would make your life absolute hell if you stayed, and George needs you. I'll be fine. I'll be studying. Just... do me a favor?"

"Anything," he said eagerly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer to him.

She smiled, leaning her head against his chest and whispered, "Tell Sirius hey for me."

Fred laughed, swore he would, and then they sat down and he quizzed her on her Charms notes. Finally, he tossed the notes aside and said, "Emma, you've got this. You're going to get Outstanding on everything, darling. I don't know why you're driving yourself so hard."

"Because," Emma sighed. "I don't know what I want to do and I'm afraid of closing doors."

"You're going to be fine," Fred assured her. "I know you'll do brilliantly at whatever you want to do, and since you want your Outstandings so badly, I'm sure you'll get them."

Emma knew it didn't work that way, but Fred's confidence in her abilities did make her feel a little bit less frantic about her need to study night and day. After all, she needed to be relaxed to do well on her tests, and it wouldn't do Fred any good to leave her in a state of panic over her exams.

She kissed him gently, whispered, "I'm sure you're right, love," and smiled in spite of herself as he ignored her words and pulled her in for another, hotter kiss.

It was a goodbye kiss, in its way, she knew, and it was all she could do to screw up her eyes tightly so as not to let the tears leek onto her cheeks. She would not let Fred know how much she didn't want him to go. Emma Norwick would not let Fred see her break down, because she knew he would stay if he knew how knowing he was leaving was breaking her heart. And he couldn't stay, she knew that much.

Fred had asked her not to be there when they made their escape. They had already said their goodbyes. It wouldn't be good for her if he did some dramatic declaration of his love for her while flying away. As he had pointed out, Umbridge was bound to take out her anger on Emma if she thought to, and so they wouldn't give her any reminders. The girls had already sworn to the twins to keep an eye out for Emma, just in case.

While her friends were all out watching Fred and George make their fantastic escape, she was sitting on her dormitory floor, staring at the foot of Tien's bed, frowning.

She would not be seeing Fred until school was over. She could not write to him. She could not contact him at all, and contacting anyone else about him would be just as dangerous for everyone involved. Emma could feel the teardrops sliding down her face and she wanted to scream and throw things but she just sat there, staring at the foot of Tien's bed.

"Emma!" Tien shrieked, heading into the dormitory. "You'll never guess what just happened!"

"Fred and George unleashed a portable swamp in the Charms corridor, Umbridge was outraged, and they flew away from the school in a blaze of glory."

Tien's face fell as she sat down beside Emma.

"Oh, well, I guess you knew already, then. You okay?"

Emma forced a smile and nodded.

"Was it spectacular?"

"Yeah," Tien said slowly, still frowning. "But you're definitely not okay. You look like you're going to be sick. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Emma lied.

"Oh, Merlin!" Tien shrieked suddenly. "You're pregnant!"

"No," Emma groaned, hitting her head on the footboard of her bed. "No, I'm just scared and lonely."

"Oh," Tien said, sighing with relief. "Well, if that's all."

Emma rolled her eyes, getting to her feet and tossing a pillow at her best friend's head.

"Well, I just mean that it's a good thing you're not pregnant, you know, considering the fact that your boyfriend just left you at the mercy of the crazy Toad-Leech!"

The latest nickname (which Tien had apparently spent all of their detention pondering) was rather fitting, Emma had to admit, but she was too depressed to fully appreciate it.

"You don't understand," Emma pouted petulantly.

"No, I do," Tien said softly, in a serious voice Emma couldn't recall ever hearing her use. "It was like after our first year at Hogwarts, and you said goodbye for the summer, and I didn't have an owl and I was so afraid that it would all be a dream, or something would happen and you'd move to a different school the next year, or that you wouldn't write to me because I couldn't write to you first. I mean... you're really the only friend I've ever had, so I'd say I care about you about as much as you care about Fred. Just in a different way."

Emma looked up at Tien and realized that her friend really did understand. And then she cried into Tien's shoulder for hours.


	15. OWLs

Emma stood in the Quidditch stands beside Tien, her best Ravenclaw garb covering her body and blue-and-bronze face paint all over her face. She looked festive and spirited, but she felt empty. If Gryffindor managed a win, which she wasn't sure was possible, they'd win the Quidditch Cup. She'd watched Gryffindor win the cup two years prior, but she'd been happy then because Fred had been on the team, but it was so hard to be happy watching Quidditch knowing that Fred was somewhere in the real world, working hopefully, and she'd not heard from him in the weeks since he left.

Tien was being uncharacteristically and surprisingly understanding, but after so many years of Emma being the friend doing all the work for the sake of the other, it was a long overdue and completely appreciated gesture. Tien was even taking time out of her day to study with Emma, even though she really didn't care that much about her N.E.W.T.s, for whatever reason. Emma had asked her a dozen times what she was going to do out of school, and finally Tien admitted it to her.

"I'm actually going to work for the twins," she said. "Don't tell anybody. I've been helping them develop some of their products, and they pay me pretty well for it. It's something I'm good at!"

Emma couldn't really argue with that, since she wasn't opposed to Fred doing it, and after all, it _was_ something Tien seemed to be good at.

"Hey, maybe you could work with us too!" Tien said happily. "Fred would enjoy that, and you're quite talented."

While Emma appreciated the compliment, she didn't feel like she would be in her element at a joke shop, unlike Tien and the twins. And if nothing else, she and Fred would just distract each other from work.

She didn't know what she wanted to do yet, but the question plagued her every day, even standing there as the wind whipped and chapped her face through the blue-and-bronze face paint Tien had so thickly applied. The Quidditch stands were packed and noisy and Emma scarcely watched the match. Ron was doing well, though, she got a sense of that as she stared down at the grass, listening to the ebb and flow of the noises the crowd made.

What if she graduated, got all her N.E.W.T.s, and just wasn't able to find a job that suited her?

She watched as Gryffindor caught the Snitch, as Ron was carried away on the shoulders of various students, and somehow it all felt empty, the life she'd lived at Hogwarts. Had any of it prepared her for life outside the stone walls she'd been calling home for so long?

After all, she'd not been prepared for the battle that was sure to come, except with the bit she'd learned from Harry in the DA. What good was anything else if she wasn't able to stay alive?

But she saw her friends smiling at Gryffindor's win, so she had to smile herself as Katie and Angelina shrieked with joy, hugging Alicia, hugging Ron, hugging anyone they could reach.

The very next week all smiles in the school were gone, or at least, for all fifth and seventh years. Teachers had begun reviewing for N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s, officially. Emma would have liked it all to be over, but that would have required the actual exams to take place, and that was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to go home, to find some purpose, and to sleep in Fred's arms like she used to, just to know he was okay.

She didn't have too much time to think about her loneliness, though. The teachers and her friends were keeping her busy, not to mention the regular questioning from Umbridge. After all, Emma had been on the list of DA members. She had been friendly with the Weasley twins, and continued to be on good terms with Harry Potter. Fred might have saved her from being beaten (which was the new thing, apparently), but she certainly hadn't been spared from scrutiny by not getting to see him off properly.

No letters came, not from the twins, not from Sirius, not from her family, although she knew no one was going to write to her, anyway.

The work was exhausting, but Emma knew that she had to add revision of her own if she had any hope of passing her N.E.W.T.s, which had to be her primary priority. They had to matter more than Fred, more than the war, more than her hatred of Umbridge and Fudge and her constant fear for Sirius's life.

"You worry too much," Tien sighed, tossing a Charms book at her. "You should just relax. It'll all be over soon enough."

"But that's just it!" Emma cried. "I don't want it to be over yet! I'm not ready for it to be over, Tien, because I have no idea what I want to do!"

"Well," Tien said thoughtfully, picking up the stacks of career brochures on Emma's beside and leafing through them, "how about this?"

She tossed the brochure to Emma, who picked it up, frowning.

Muggle Liaison.

"I'd have to work for the Ministry," Emma said pointedly, which was why she'd disregarded the job in the first place.

"Yes, but read the fine print, love," Tien urged. "You'd be working in Mr. Weasley's department. He'd be your boss!"

"Hmm," Emma murmured, getting a bit excited about the thought of working for Fred's father, possibly gathering information for the Order. "I'll think on it. Now, can we review the method for delivery of texture changes in Charms?"

"Do we have to?" her friend grumbled, but they managed to get through the entire fifth year of Charms notes by the time they went to bed that night, on top of the revisionary essay they'd had to do for McGonagall.

Emma made a personal note to quickly review her Muggle Studies notes, just in case.

The examiners arrived on Sunday at dinner, and Emma dropped her spoon into her soup, splashing herself and Katie in the process.

"Relax, dear," Katie said softly. "It's only some exams. You've taken dozens of exams."

But Katie didn't understand. She wasn't in her N.E.W.T. year, and she wouldn't be able to understand the anxiety that was plaguing Angelina and Emma and Alicia, and even Tien, until she reached her own Sunday before the exams.

"I'm going to fail everything," Angelina whispered as Katie wiped the soup off herself. "I just know I'm going to fail everything."

"Have you ever failed something before?" Emma asked nervously. "Any of you?"

The other three girls shook their heads. Sure, they'd failed a paper or two, had a particularly bad day in Snape's class, but none of them had actually failed a major exam, and certainly not a whole class.

"I almost failed History of Magic," Katie said thoughtfully. "My O.W.L., but I wouldn't have cared too much if I had. I wasn't planning to continue with it, anyway."

They all nodded again. Emma wondered what she would have done if she actually had failed her Potions O.W.L. as Snape kept hinting she would. She'd studied extra-hard to prove him wrong. It would have narrowed her field of career choices considerably, though, and would that really have been such a bad thing? She would have known what she should do a lot quicker, rather than spending so much of her time panicking about it.

"Well, let's just hope we don't fail anything we need," Angelina finally said. She sounded a bit more confident than when she'd been claiming she would fail everything, which they knew perfectly well she wouldn't do.

"What do you think you'll need?" Emma asked curiously.

"For Quidditch?" Katie asked, laughing. "She just needs to pass _something_ and she'll be fine!"

"What about you?" Angelina asked as the laughter died down a bit, turning to Emma as she grabbed a roll. "What do you think you'll need?"

"I... I don't know," Emma muttered, not entirely honestly. "Maybe... maybe Muggle Studies."

Tien laughed almost hysterically, knowing that she'd been exactly right about what Emma ought to do for a career. Angelina and Katie exchanged confused looks.

"Isn't it sort of a given that you'll get an Outstanding on that, though?" Katie asked. "I mean, you're Muggleborn, after all. That's got to count for something."

"Something, yes," Emma agreed. "But not an automatic Outstanding. Just because I was raised in it doesn't mean I'm an expert. I mean, you're not an expert on the wizarding world, are you?"

"No, I suppose you're right about that," Angelina teased. "What do you expect you'll be doing, Tien?"

"I've already got a gig," Tien said with a shrug. "My employers wish to remain anonymous at present, but I've got a job whether I fail everything or not."

Emma wondered whether the twins had really said she had to keep it a secret, her working for them, or if Tien just preferred the mystery. It wouldn't surprise her.

She had a hard time sleeping that night, tossing and turning in her blue-and-bronze bedding, trying to think if there was something she'd forgotten to study.

The fifth years would do their written exams in the morning for each subject and practical exams in the afternoon. Seventh years would be doing the same subjects, but opposite, so Emma had her Charms practical first thing in the morning, just after breakfast. What if she forgot how to do the Charms asked of her? What if she forgot the incantations or did the wrong wand motion?

She began to panic in her bed and tears rolled down her face. Emma wanted Fred. Fred would understand why she was upset, because she herself wasn't entirely sure it had anything to do with Charms. Fred would comfort her and hold her and kiss her and tell her that everything was fine, everything was going to be fine, and she would believe him if only for that little brief slice of time. Fred wouldn't lie to her. If his words turned out to not be true, it would be because something had changed.

The tears were coming more forcefully and she noticed Tien crawling onto her bed through the small gap in the hangings. She couldn't read her best friend's face through the darkness, but she knew that Tien was there because she'd heard Emma crying.

"I'm fine," Emma lied. "Nightmare."

"Don't lie," Tien sighed, crawling under the covers with her, hugging Emma. "You're upset and anxious and it's because of the war and because Fred's gone and because we're going to be adults. We have to be responsible and we have to deal with the shit of the world that our elders haven't taken care of yet."

Like the war. Like Voldemort. Like Umbridge.

"It's not fair," Emma sniffled.

"You're damn right, it's not," Tien growled. "But we're going to rise to the challenge anyway, Emma. We're not going to let them win, are we?"

"N-no," Emma agreed. "No, we're not going to let them win. F-for Sirius and for the Potters and... and..."

"Right," Tien said. "Wait... Sirius?"

"Ah, yeah," Emma said, feeling a blush rise in her cheeks. "Sirius Black. He's innocent."

"Oh."

"Yeah, he was wrongfully imprisoned for twelve years and he broke out to kill Peter Pettigrew, who'd been hiding as a rat, and now Peter's with the Death Eaters. He helped Voldemort return. Sirius is in hiding his childhood home and sulking, mostly."

"Oh," Tien said. "Cool. We should send him chocolate or something."

And then Emma started to laugh so hysterically that Tien actually had to perform a Silencing Charm on her so as not to wake the other girls, but Emma kept laughing silently.

Suddenly, Emma felt like everything was really going to be okay, because if Tien could just accept it all and suggest something like giving chocolate to a famous, framed mass murderer, Emma could at least face N.E.W.T.s.

The next morning at breakfast, Emma felt like her stomach was angry at food. Everything she tried to force into her mouth felt terrible as she chewed (her food) and swallowed (both food and drink), and her stomach seemed to threaten to send everything back up merely to unnerve her. She'd not been half so ill when O.W.L.s happened.

But she'd had Fred then, she realized, making her smile and laugh through breakfast so that she hardly noticed her food or stomach or anything else but how good it felt to be around him. The ironic thing was that once she finally had Fred as her own, he wasn't there when she really needed him.

Emma finished with her so-called breakfast and followed Angelina and Tien into the line for the Charms practical.

Charms had always been one of Emma's subject, but her hands were shaking as she stood in line. What if she really did forget everything?

"Relax," Tien whispered in her ear. "You're going to be fine, Emma. Just remember how happy Fred will be when you get your N.E.W.T.s. You guys can celebrate..."

Emma gave Tien an annoyed look at the suggestion, but she did like the idea of celebrating in Fred's new flat...

"... and Norwick, Emma!"

She started, seeing that Angelina had already gone in and that several other students in her year were heading forward. Tien was pushing her into the classroom that had been chosen for the practical and Emma stepped forward, shaking even harder, making sure that she had her wand in her pocket as she was ushered toward an examiner.

When she met up with her friends again at lunch, Emma felt much better and Angelina and Tien were complaining about how they'd been unable to properly copy their chandeliers.

"There were just so many details!" Angelina whined. "How was anyone supposed to remember all of them at once?"

"I think I did all right, actually," Emma said with a shrug.

"Of course you did," Katie said comfortingly. "I'm sure you all did just fine. Written bit this afternoon, yeah?"

The three nodded, filling their plates with sandwiches and fruit.

Emma didn't feel sick anymore, and in fact rather enjoyed her ham sandwich and pear slices. Angelina, on the other hand, looked about ready to spit up her grapes any second. Thankfully, she didn't do any such thing.

"You're going to be fine," Katie assured them. "You know your stuff, yeah? You've all studied?"

The three nodded, and Katie blew Lee a kiss as he walked by. He blushed, walking into the end of the table as he gave her a jerking nod back.

"He's so silly," Katie sighed. "I'm going to miss teasing him. I'm going to go find Leanne, okay? You're going to be fine!"

Katie had taken to hanging out with a Gryffindor in her own year, Leanne, once Angelina and Emma got serious about N.E.W.T.s and the twins left the school. Emma was a bit jealous, but it was a reasonable thing, she told herself as she watched the tables in the Great Hall rearrange themselves for the written examination that would be taken in a matter of minutes.

"Hey, girls," Lee said, sitting down on top of one of the tables, the one Angelina and Emma and Tien were sitting at. "How's your day gone?"

Angelina grumbled, balling up a bit of her bread from the untouched part of her sandwich and tossing it at his head.

"That good, eh?" he muttered gloomily. "I can't say as mine's gone any better."

They all nodded glumly, waiting for the examiner to come in and administer their test. The fidgeting had begun around the room en masse. Emma had started shifting in her seat, and she actually felt pretty good about the theoretical part of the exam, especially after how well her practical had gone.

"I wish the twins were here," Lee said with a melancholy sigh. "They always alleviated stress for these things."

"Yeah," Tien said wistfully, "but increasing stress on someone else."

The all laughed uneasily, but it was the truth of it, Emma recalled wryly. Bulbadox powder in Towler's pajamas. It had been a good joke, except perhaps for the stress they'd caused poor Towler. But as far as the twins were concerned, the boy'd had it coming. Emma had never been able to quite put her finger on why, but then she recalled...

Two weeks before O.W.L.s, Towler had asked her out.

It had seemed unrelated before, inconsequential to his Bulbadoxed fate, but when Emma put it together with what Fred had said about being in love with her for years, it suddenly seemed like the most obvious and unfortunate thing in the world.

One thing to be said for Towler was that he had no sense of proper timing.

Emma settled in as the examiner walked into the room, taking a seat, pulling out her exam-approved ink and quill, and taking a deep, shaking breath. She was going to do just fine, she reminded herself. She knew everything she needed to know for the exam, and there was only a little while until she would be done with exams, done with school, and back with Fred. In the moment, that anxiety was much less than the looming one of dealing with her exam.

The exams were handed out to the waiting students. Emma took a deep breath, scanned the first page quickly as the announcement to begin was made and the clock began counting down the time she would have to finish the exam, but she was always quick with those sorts of things. She wouldn't need the whole time.

Another deep breath and Emma dipped the nib of her quill in the ink, steadying her hand over the parchment and reminding herself that it was just another exam, nothing scarier than usual.

Except that it could decide her entire life.

Deep breaths, Emma reminded herself, and so her exam began.


	16. This Is War

The week after the N.E.W.T. practical for Astronomy, the O.W.L. students had a practical to remember, and the whole school knew all about it by breakfast.

Apparently, Toad-Face had gotten a few Aurors or some other sort of muscle to help her remove Hagrid from the school, but Hagrid was prepared. He ran away to Merlin knows where.

That wasn't the bad part.

The bad part was that Professor McGonagall had been there to try to protect Hagrid and got caught in the crossfire: multiple Stunning Spells to the chest.

She was in St. Mungo's in critical condition, and Emma couldn't help but think that things were just looking bleaker all the time.

Emma was sitting with Tien at breakfast when Angelina and Katie came over looking frantic.

"I feel like we're at war," Angelina hissed as discretely as possible, looking up at Professor McGonagall's empty seat.

"We _are_ at war," Tien pointed out. "We're just really feeling the effects of it right now. When we step out of these walls, it's probably going to be worse."

"I think that will depend," Emma said softly, remembering some of the things Sirius had told her when they'd stay up late at night and discuss the state of things.

Katie looked up and said with her mouth full of eggs, "On what?"

"On the state of politics," Emma said slowly. "Right now, You-Know-Who doesn't have a reason to come out openly. Things that are happening are things that can be explained as not related to him, so Fudge can keep on being oblivious and making it easier for the Death Eaters to kill us all. So the war might not be heated yet when we get into the world, but I can't imagine that this can keep on like this for too much longer."

Even as she said it she felt uncomfortable about the whole thing. She didn't want to go out into a war, but she found herself not as afraid as she had been. The war was an inevitable thing, and there was no point of being afraid of the inevitable.

She was afraid, however, of losing Fred, of being separated from him, of dying. Those, she decided, were reasonable things to be afraid of.

And even on top of that, she thought as she buttered her toast, was the fear of something - anything - happening to Sirius Black.

Emma and her friends just sat in solemn silence, eating their breakfast and occasionally glancing up at the newer empty seats on the High Table. The whole castle was a bit gloomier, a bit anxious, and bit solemn that morning, and Emma looked up at a proud-looking Umbridge and for the first time in her life felt the strong urge to strike another human being with intent to actually cause harm.

That wasn't strong enough, Emma decided as they neared the end of breakfast, gathering up their things for their various exams (hers, History of Magic). She wanted to hurt Umbridge... badly.

That evening, Emma was walking to the library to return a few books she'd used for her exams and she had the eerie but persistent feeling that something was terribly wrong, that something awful was about to happen.

Sure enough, she heard a voice, a deep baritone voice, calling her name from down the hall. Emma turned on her heel to find Professor Snape of all people walking toward her urgently.

"Miss Norwick, you are finished with your exams, I presume?" he asked smoothly.

"Yes, sir," she said quickly, sensing that he wasn't just asking to make conversation.

"Follow me, Miss Norwick. I have some things to sort out and you might be able to assist me."

Emma nodded, hurrying on behind Snape's billowing cloak. It had to be something to do with the war, she knew, and she would have felt honored that he was asking her help, but she knew that it was probably because she was the first person he came across who actually knew anything about the Order.

When they reached his office he closed and locked the door behind them, which made Emma feel a bit uncomfortable, but she said nothing of it.

"Potter is under the impression that Black is in the hands of the Dark Lord," Snape explained sharply. "He's ready to take off and save him with little more than a rag-tag band of half-trained teenagers."

The way he looked at her, Emma was sure he knew that she had been on the list of those Harry had been training in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he probably would have thought less of her for it if he could have thought any less of her than he already did.

"Yes, sir," she said, trying to remind him of whatever it was he'd called her to follow him for.

"I will need you on hand if things happen as I expect they will."

Emma nodded and watched as he sent a Patronus to the Order, to Professor Lupin specifically, enquiring as to whether Sirius was still where he was supposed to be. While they waited for a reply Snape sorted some freshly dried Potions ingredients as Emma sat, watching him, her stomach flopping with nerves.

The reply came: Sirius Black was safely in Grimmauld Place.

Emma breathed a sigh of relief, but Snape did not.

"Norwick," he snapped, "go past Professor Umbridge's office and see if Potter and his friends are still there. Report back to me and be quick about it."

She hurried as quickly as she could up to the corridor that held Umbridge's office, skidded to a stop, making sure no one was watching her, and then took deep, calming breaths before walking as casually as she could muster down the hall to the office in question.

The door was wide open, so she peeked in.

There were several Inquisitorial Squad members strew around the office in various hexed and jinxed and Stunned states, including Draco Malfoy, but not a single DA member, and certainly not Harry Potter.

Not even bothering to look around and see if someone was watching her, Emma turned and ran straight back to Snape's office, heart pounding in her head and throat, her mouth going dry with fear. When she came back she knocked, said she had news, and he let her in, locking the door behind her again as she gasped for breath.

"They weren't there," she said. "The Inquisitorial Squad members were all unconscious and there was nobody else there at all. Harry's gone, but I could guess where."

"Never mind that, I know where," Snape snapped, sending another message to the Order, explaining that Harry had gone to the Ministry, and for Sirius to stay at Headquarters to explain things to Professor Dumbledore when he came.

"He's not-" Emma began.

"You stay at my side and keep your mouth shut," Snape snapped. "You do what I say when I say it and speak to no one without my permission. Is that understood, Norwick?"

Emma clamped her mouth shut and nodded, although she had been about to point out that Sirius wasn't going to stay, that he was going to want to be in on the action, to save Harry.

She followed him up to the staff lounge where he began to pace, and she wondered why he hadn't just done that in his office. Then it occurred to her that he hadn't wanted anyone to come looking for him, and his office would be the first place someone might check.

He seemed to be making a mental list of things he ought to or needed to do. With a sharp nod, he then turned to her, stopping abruptly and saying, "Miss Norwick, we need to tend to the students Potter's cronies attacked."

Again, Emma nodded and followed, although she could hardly think of anything she wanted to do less. She couldn't stand any of them, and what was more they'd been involved in the rounding up of her friends and fellow DA members. Snape knew this, but she couldn't help but admire that he was thinking of the safety and well-being of his students, even though she happened to despise said students, and everyone knew they were most of his favorites.

So maybe it wasn't all that impressive, but it was a more humane gesture than Emma would have thought Snape capable of, so she filed it away in her mind to ponder and pick apart later.

Once they'd cared for and delivered to Madam Pomfrey all of the students requiring any amount of care, Emma was starting to feel anxious for news. Professor Snape could tell she was anxious and ordered her to go to Madam Pomfrey for something for nerves and that he would go to find her in the infirmary if he had further need of her.

Emma did as she was told, mostly because she felt as though it would be good for her to take something for her boiling nerves.

To her surprise, it was not Professor Snape who came to find her later, but the kindly, tired face of Professor Dumbledore hovering over her quite early the following morning, she realized, noting that she must have fallen asleep in the hospital wing cot she'd taken up when Madam Pomfrey medicated her, telling her kindly that there was certainly a cot open if she found she wanted one.

Emma blinked up at him, confused and anxious.

"Professor?" she whispered. "What news is there, professor? Is everyone all right?"

"I'm afraid not," he admitted solemnly, looking surprisingly apologetic.

It was Fred, Emma thought, her heart racing as she sat up, head dizzy as she lifted her head too quickly. Why else would Dumbledore look so apologetic?

"Nymphadora Tonks is in the hospital, although she will make a full recovery," he said slowly. "Harry's very emotionally brittle at the moment. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom all sustained injuries, although Madam Pomfrey should be able to heal them aptly."

But this wasn't his news, Emma knew it from the way the space between his words seemed to linger and taunt her.

"What else?" she pressed.

He looked down for a moment, then looked back up at her and said, "Sirius Black is dead."

Emma could feel tears filling her eyes, welling up and threatening to roll down her face.

"Professor Snape told him to stay," she said softly, trying to argue, trying to convince herself and anyone, everyone, that he wasn't dead. Sirius couldn't be dead. She'd barely had any time with him, with his friendship. It just wasn't possible, wasn't fair.

"You know well enough to know that Sirius couldn't stand letting other people fight the battles, especially this, which he saw as his responsibility, as they used him to coax Harry to the Ministry."

She shook her head, tears falling onto her cheeks.

"No," she sobbed. "No, he's not allowed to die! He promised to be careful! He promised me."

Dumbledore just watched as she cried out her tears, while she calmed herself when the wave of tears was done, while she wiped her face dry and coughed into her hand, distraught still and feeling a tightness in her chest that didn't go away with the cough.

"I'm very sorry," he said kindly. "I understand how you feel. I think Harry does as well."

Harry, Emma realized. Harry would be devastated. Her own pain, great though it was, would only be a pinch compared with Harry's, who had thought he was going to save Sirius and ended up luring Sirius out to his death with his own impulsivity.

"Yes, sir," she muttered, looking down at the sheets, the clean white sheets that seemed to be mocking her somehow. "Thank you for your sympathy, sir. Am I free to leave the hospital wing now? I'd like to see my friends."

"Yes, you are," Dumbledore answered with a sad smile. "Not very long left here with them, I expect you've got lots of reminiscing to do."

Emma wouldn't be reminiscing. She would be crying.

When Emma made it to breakfast, Tien, Katie, Lee, and Angelina were sitting around a platter of toast, exchanging ominous glances when Emma approached.

They didn't know about Sirius, though, she told herself. At least, they couldn't know her friendship with him, even if his death made it in the papers. So something else had made them solemn and sad. She sat down beside Lee and grabbed some toast.

"What has you all so s-sad?" she stuttered, realized she'd almost said 'serious', but the word choked on her tongue.

Too soon.

"Have you not seen the paper?" Angelina said softly. "Fudge has confirmed it. He was wrong. Voldemort's back."

"Oh, yes," Emma said with a nod. "I already knew that."

"What's more," Tien said eagerly, "Sirius Black was innocent all along; wrongfully accused, they said. But he died last night, when Voldemort broke into the Ministry. And Harry Potter was there to fight him and he won again. At least, that's what they're saying."

"Yeah, Harry does that," Emma muttered, looking down at her plate, wanting to cry at the reminder of Sirius's death, and the granting of his innocence that came too late.

"You're not at all surprised by the Sirius Black news?" Katie said urgently. "Isn't it just horribly tragic?"

"I met him," Emma whispered. "Over Christmas holidays, he and the Weasleys and I were staying in the same place. I... he was my friend."

The table grew silent at this revelation and Emma glanced sideways to the copy of the Daily Prophet that was sitting in front of Katie. She saw the face of Sirius Black looking up at her, not the one they'd been using while he was wanted, but one of him as a young man, probably something Remus had had, of him laughing.

She hadn't realized she was crying until she saw the tear fall from her cheek onto the plate in front of her, beside the toast. Emma hastily wiped her eyes, but her friends had all seen and the silence was still thick between them, watching her as she mourned the man who'd talked with her about the war, the man who'd become her friend because he'd needed one so badly.

Someday, she thought, she was going to find a way to let the world know how wonderful he was.

The five teens ate their breakfast in silence after that, although the rest of the Great Hall was buzzing with the news of Voldemort's confirmed return. It seemed likely that Fudge would be asked to resign any day. Sirius Black's innocence was also big news, and a few of the younger girls, heads full of romantic ideas of war and sacrifice, said that when it was all over he ought to get a war monument to attest to his martyrdom.

Sirius would have liked that, Emma thought, being memorialized for wizards to remember for ages to come.

But it wasn't likely to happen. Not with the war on and needs to focus on the war itself. Then there would be rebuilding, and memorials that had names of people who'd died in various battles. He was the only one who'd died on their side in the Ministry.

There would be no memorial for Sirius Black, she was sure, unless Harry won the war and commissioned it himself.

Maybe he would.

Harry.

Harry wasn't at breakfast, she realized, looking around the Great Hall. Perhaps he was physically too weak. More likely, though, he was too emotionally drained. She felt horribly drained and she'd only lost a relatively new, although dear, friend. Sirius had meant an awful lot to Harry.

Of course, there was also the consideration that Harry didn't much care for all of the people staring at him. They always stared at him when he did something heroic. She couldn't exactly blame them for it, as she had done the same thing on many an occasion. Puzzling out Harry Potter had been the pastime of many a Hogwarts student over the last five years, particularly when he went and did something like he'd just done.

Emma felt angry suddenly, angry that she'd not been along. What if there would have been something she could have done, something to save Sirius's life?

It wasn't her fault he'd died, and she knew it, and anyway she probably would have ended up dead or injured herself, but knowing those things didn't make anything feel better. She wanted to know more, know how he died, think of some way she might have saved him from it, even though she knew it was too late to do anything about it. He wasn't coming back.

Harry would know, she knew, but she couldn't ask him.

And really, it wouldn't make a difference, she knew. She would only feel worse for knowing, and Sirius wouldn't want that. He would want her to take care of herself, like he'd told her to do, and to do some good during the war.

"Did you hear about Toad-Leech?" Tien finally said as they were getting up to go outside and sample the pleasant weather.

"What about her?" Emma asked.

"Apparently Harry and Hermione led her into the forest and she was kidnapped by rampaging centaurs. Dumbledore saved her sometime this morning. She's in the hospital wing, shock they say. I hope it's worse than shock, though."

Emma frowned. The very idea of being left at the mercy of an angry herd of centaurs was less than appealing, but she half-wished that Dumbledore would have left Umbridge there.

"I suppose I'll have to see her when I'm up visiting Hermione and Ron, then," Emma said firmly, giving of the clear indication with her tone that they were not to talk any more on Umbridge.

"Why would you do that?" Lee asked, confused.

"Because," she said, blushing furiously. "Ron's almost like family."

The girls, reading more in than was there, as always, squealed excitedly, and Emma wished she could have told them that she and Fred were getting married, but she couldn't. There was a war on, she reminded them as she finally managed to calm them. Marriage could wait.


	17. Welcome to the World

When the paper had a paper that had more information about official events from the Department of Mysteries, which was still not the full story, Emma was told by Luna, Emma began to get tired of school.

"Good thing it's nearly done, then," Tien said knowingly. "Will your darling Weasley be meeting you at the platform?"

"Yeah, he wrote me the other day," Emma said with a small smile.

That had been the one good thing about the war being official and Umbridge being in shock: Fred was able to write to Emma, and had done so every day since.

"Try not to be too sappy," Tien teased. "You're not coming home from war or something."

But the grin on the pretty Asian girl's face fell when she saw that her words did not cheer up Emma, but caused Emma's own face to fall.

In a way, she was coming home from war. She'd been fighting small, non-lethal battles against Umbridge since he left her, and the whole time the events were occurring in the Ministry, she knew that bad things were going to happen just because she had the sheer bad luck to cross Snape's path at the wrong time.

"Well, I suppose you can give him a sloppy, wet kiss," Tien said slowly. "If you really want."

Emma smiled, hugged her best friend, and tried not to let fall the tears of relief that were welling up in her eyes.

It was over. All of the tension and suffering of her final year of Hogwarts was over, and she couldn't believe she'd been upset that it was almost over. All she wanted was to go home.

But she couldn't go home. She couldn't put her family in any sort of risk of being attacked, because even if she wasn't heavily involved in the war, Fred was sure to be. She didn't know where she was going to go until she had a job and enough gold for a flat, but she supposed she could stay at the Leaky Cauldron or something.

The girls were finishing up the last of their packing and Tien and Emma were finding that they had each other's clothes all mixed up through their trunks, trading back to try to not accidentally take each other's things.

"I guess if something turns up missing," Tien said with a shrug, "I'll have a decent idea where it went!"

Once they'd gotten things in order and fully packed, they decided they'd go down to walk the grounds one last time, and were surprised to find Angelina and Lee in the entrance hall, seeming to be going off to do just that.

"Where's Katie?" Emma asked, taking one of the proffered licorice snaps from Lee.

"She and Leanne are bonding," Angelina said with a small smile. "I think she's letting us say our goodbyes without interruptions. She knows she would only be in the way."

"You know," Tien said thoughtfully, "for someone who comes across as a bit of a bimbo, she's actually rather wise sometimes."

The four of them laughed, heading out into the sunshine of the grounds, pleased that they were actually able to enjoy it now that N.E.W.T.s were over.

"I've got trials in a month," Angelina sighed. "Oliver's gotten me some spots with various teams he's got mates on. He wants me on Puddlemere, though, obviously."

"I think you'll make the Harpies," Lee assured her, which they all knew was what she wanted. "The twins tell me you've got a job with them, Tien."

"Yeah, they gave me a good offer," Tien said with a nonchalant shrug. "It made more sense than searching for a poor-paying job that doesn't suit me as well."

"I'm jealous," Lee sighed. Then he grinned. "Or, I would be if I weren't working for the WWN."

"No!" Emma gasped. "You actually got a job with them?"

"Yeah," Angelina snorted. "He's going to be getting their tea and sandwiches, organizing paperwork. You know."

"It's a start," Lee said indignantly. "You'll likely end up on a reserve team to begin with, anyway."

"Yeah, but I'll still be playing Quidditch," Angelina pointed out.

The settled by the lake, looking out over the perfect water, admiring how the sun glistened across it.

"What about you, Emma?" Lee asked, stretching out. "Have you taken any steps toward the future yet, or are you still undecided?"

"Actually," Emma admitted with a blush, "I contacted Fred's father the other day, told him I was interested in working for his department at the Ministry. He put my name on the list of interested parties, so my credentials will go straight into the pool when the scores come back. And... and he said he'd recommend me. So that's good, I suppose."

"That's great," Angelina assured her. "You're well on your way, I think."

Yes, well on her way, but well on her way to what, Emma wondered. After all, she was following more of a whim than a passion. She was joining a Ministry already proven incompetent at best at the official beginning of a war that had been going on for a whole year.

"I guess," Emma replied with a shrug, turning her attention to the lake, glad that they were done with talking about careers.

They'd turned, instead, to talking about living arrangements they'd made. Was she really the only one so poorly prepared for the future?

She tried to ignore them as she picked at the perfect grass, wishing Fred was holding her, kissing her neck and telling her that nothing else about the future mattered because they had each other. What a beautiful daydream it made, but Fred was in London as far as she could tell from his hastily scribbled letters, and not with her in sunny Scotland.

Emma had laid back on the grass, closed her eyes, and begun to doze off slightly, dreaming of Fred holding her again, when someone began shaking her awake again, spoiling her lovely fantasy.

"Emma, look!"

She jerked up to a sitting position, squinting where Tien was pointing.

It was Professor McGonagall. She was coming back onto the grounds with her things, seeming quite well healed for a woman who'd been in critical condition not too long ago.

"It'd take more than a bunch of dumb Ministry people to take down McGonagall," Lee said proudly. "She's a tough old bird."

"That she is," Tien said happily. "She was too stubborn to die, anyway."

Emma's stomach turned as she watched Professor McGonagall making her way up to the castle.

Die.

People were going to die, more than just Sirius. Whatever her friends wanted to say about McGonagall (and maybe it was true), the world wasn't made up of people too stubborn to die. Emma would have said Sirius was too stubborn to die. It hadn't proven true.

"Should we see her in?" Tien said eagerly.

"I'd rather not," Angelina said quickly. "I'm glad she's well again, but she's likely to make us take her things up to her quarters for her, and I'm not keen on working right now. I mean, we've worked hard enough with N.E.W.T.s and everything. And we've got the luncheon..."

Graduating students had a light luncheon in their honor before the school-wide feast, just the seventh years in attendance.

"I don't want to go to the luncheon," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.

"Emma!" Angelina said indigently. "What if you get some sort of award or something?"

"I won't," she whispered. "I was a prefect, but I was nothing special. I never topped a class, ever. The twins, they would have won something in spite of themselves. But I'm nothing, nobody. They'll forget me when they talk about what happens during the war. It will be like I never existed."

"Well, that all depends on who's telling the story," Tien said thoughtfully. "I suppose any one of us could cease to exist where history's concerned. Well, not the twins. They're already immortal as far as Hogwarts is concerned."

Emma smiled, knowing she was referring to the swamp, which Professor Flitwick had left a bit of, roped off to memorialize the twins, and the fact that their spectacular exit had become its own sort of popular culture machine. 'Doing a Weasley' was the slang way of saying that one wanted to leave Hogwarts. There seemed to be a dozen ways the twins had left their mark on Hogwarts, which was exactly what they'd wanted.

"If Fred writes it, though," Tien said softly, "you can bet that somehow you'll end up as the heroine, and he will be your knight in shining armor, and your fool. Probably both at once."

"Other than me being the heroine," Emma snorted, "that would actually be fitting."

"You know, I heard Alicia telling Katie the other day that she felt sorry for you," Angelina said softly. "She said she couldn't imagine how hard it's been for you, alone when the school was at its worst without Fred."

Emma shook her head, laying back on the grass.

"It wasn't at its worst," she sighed. "He was safe. He was happy. And I was too busy to worry too much about him when I knew he was okay."

That was a lie, she knew, and Tien knew as well, but she didn't want it getting back to Alicia that her pity fell on needy ears. The last thing Emma wanted was for Alicia Spinnet to pity her for any reason.

"I don't really want to go to the luncheon either," Tien said thoughtfully. "Only Dumbledore, the Head Boy, and the Head Girl get to speak. Where's fair in that?"

The other three just blinked at Tien, but she didn't seem to notice that their eyes were all saying that it was actually perfectly fair. But there was no point saying such things out loud to Tien. She just pretended she couldn't hear when someone was contradicting her, anyway, even if it was a professor.

It was then, however, that an owl approached their group, and landed carefully on the ground beside Emma, holding out its leg.

"What is it?" Angelina asked eagerly. "Is it from Fred?"

"I don't know, do I?" Emma asked, chuckling. "I've not opened it yet."

It wasn't from Fred, but from Dumbledore.

"It's for Lee as well," Emma explained, frowning. "Dumbledore wants to see us after the luncheon, Lee. Great. That means we have to go, I suppose."

What more could he possibly have to tell her after telling her that Sirius was dead?

Surely something hadn't happened to Fred, not so quickly. They'd not even set a date for Sirius's funeral yet, she'd been told.

Fred was fine, she told herself. Fred was going to be all right. Everything was going to be fine.

"We're going to have to be at the luncheon soon, actually," Angelina said darkly, looking down at her watch. "I guess we'll see you there, but I think we're supposed to sit by Houses. So I'll see you on the train, if not before."

Ironically, the house tables were gone when we got to the luncheon. Dumbledore explained that while usually students sat with their house at such events, he wanted to remind us that there was a war.

"Your House is your family while at Hogwarts," he said softly, "but once you step out of these walls, there is only the wizarding community. At this moment, the wizarding community is at war. The wizard known as Lord Voldemort is returned, and there have already been deaths. You won't be spared because of your house or your blood status. You will have to make difficult decisions."

The luncheon otherwise went on as normal, but Emma couldn't shake the thought that Professor Dumbledore had been looking at her as he'd said the bit about decisions.

She'd already had to make decisions. Letting Fred leave, not making Sirius make some heavier promises or vows of his own safety... She should have gone with Harry, should have found some way to protect him, as foolish as she knew it was to think so.

She and Lee made their way to Dumbledore's office as instructed in the note, as soon as the luncheon was over. They were awkwardly quiet as they walked, as neither of them knew what to expect.

When they were welcomed into the office, however, Dumbledore's expression was a sad smile.

"Miss Norwick, Mr. Jordan, please, have a seat." They sat. "Mr. Jordan, I don't know if your friends have told you much of their summer or winter holiday activities?"

Lee shook his head.

"No, Professor," he said.

Professor Dumbledore explained, swiftly, about the Order of the Phoenix. He made a point that Lee would be, with his new job at WWN, privy to all sorts of information that other Order Members, of whom none were involved in the media, would have the same access to. He was invited, should he choose to join the Order, to use that information to aid the forces against Voldemort in the war.

Emma's head was spinning. If he wanted Lee for the Order because of his job, what did Professor Dumbledore want her for? She didn't have a job, yet.

"And Miss Norwick," he said kindly, turning to her. "You are familiar with the organization. I cannot give specifics, as the details are still being arranged, but I can confirm that very soon you will be offered a position at the Ministry of Magic. I ask that, should you wish to help us, you take the position and use your Ministry position to help gather information and possibly members to the Order. It will be dangerous, and I know that Mr. Fred Weasley is not particularly fond of the idea, but you have the potential to save many lives this way."

At first, she'd been all ready to say no, especially when he said that Fred was against it. Not the job, but the Order. She needed the job. But when Dumbledore mentioned the fact that information she gathered could save lives, she reconsidered. What if better information could have saved Sirius?

Shouldn't she join the Order, if she could help save someone from dying like Sirius? If she could save Fred or George or anyone? Fred would understand. He had to understand. She would explain and it would all be all right.

"Yes," she said with a forced smile. "Yes, I'll join the Order of the Phoenix."

The walk away from Dumbledore's office was just as silent as the one leading there, and Emma was grateful for it, for her head was spinning as she went and she didn't want to have to converse with Lee about what they'd just been tasked with.

There would be plenty of time for that later, she was sure.

So instead, she answered none of Tien's questions, finished her packing, and slept through the feast, praying that everything would be all right when she got back to London, that Fred would understand.

The following morning, Emma carried her trunk down to the carriages, got on the train with her friends at Hogsmeade Station, and waited anxiously as they pulled out into the countryside. Lee, Angelina, Katie, Leanne, and Tien were all happily chattering about jobs and flats and all that sort of business, and Emma was feeling more unsure than ever before.

She should have asked Dumbledore where she was supposed to stay. She couldn't go home, not to her parents. She'd already sent a letter telling them that she would be staying in London, that there was a war and that she would contact them when she could do so safely.

Which could be never, she thought bitterly. Nobody could say how long the war would last, not even Dumbledore, who knew everything. Still, it was better to give her parents hope than to push them to doing something stupid in order to keep her with them.

Now she just had to find a place to stay, she decided, sitting in the train compartment, looking up at the clear sky, ignoring her friends as they talked in hushed tones about the war, as if it mattered if anyone heard. Everyone knew the truth.

"Do you think things will ever be the way they were again?" Angelina asked thoughtfully as the scenery outside the window began turning more into a suburban atmosphere. They'd be at King's Cross within minutes.

"The way then were when?" Tien asked.

Angelina shrugged.

The friends sat silently, waiting for the train to come to a stop. What else was there left to say? Emma certainly couldn't think of anything.

They'd hit London proper, she thought, looking at the tall buildings. They'd be there any minute.

When the train finally slowed to a stop, Emma had already been turned away from the window, scrambling like the others to get her things.

There was a flurry of hugs and kisses on the cheek and telling Katie and Leanne to have a wonderful year the following year and not to let their N.E.W.T.s get them down, and then Emma gathered up her things and filed out after Lee and Tien, hyperaware of Angelina behind her as they got off the train and onto the crowded platform nine and three-quarters, into the current of students getting ready to go back out into the Muggle world.

"This is it," Angelina said softly. "We don't go back through this until we have kids of our own."

"Who's going to let any of us breed?" Tien joked.

"Oh, I don't know," Angelina said teasingly. "I think that someone ought to let Fred and Emma breed."

Emma blushed as they shuffled forward, toward the entryway back to the Muggle world.

"Do you think we'll get to all come back at the same time?" Katie asked. "Or do you think we'll all have children at different times?"

"I don't know," Angelina said with a shrug. "I know one thing, I'm not having kids in this war."

They all nodded in agreement and it was their turn, stepping out into King's Cross.


	18. All that Matters

Emma could see Fred and George, dressed far more stylishly than she'd ever seen them, in what looked like brand new dragon-skin jackets, talking to Ron, who must have gotten off the platform just before her.

Fred looked her direction, saw her standing there, staring at her, and he smiled.

Dropping her trunk beside Tien, who dutifully stood by it like a well-trained bulldog, Emma ran toward Fred, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her a bit into the air, pressing his lips to hers.

Even some of the Muggles had stopped to watch them, smiling and saying things to each other about young love and all that. Emma just clung to Fred, kissing him back eagerly, only breaking apart when his mother began tittering about how sweet they were and Fred's lips twitched into a smirk against hers.

She was still hurt about Sirius, but the war wasn't so scary with Fred with her again.

He walked over and got her trunk.

"You've not got a place to stay yet?" he asked her. Emma shook her head. "All right, you'll stay with us then," he said with a grin, gesturing at himself and George. "We've got a flat above the shop, plenty of room for one more."

They kissed their mother goodbye, Emma hugged Tien and said she'd write her, and then George took Emma's trunk, Fred took her hand, and when no one was looking and a train blew it's whistle the trio Disapparated.

When Emma opened her eyes and steadied herself on Fred's torso, she found that they were standing in a stylish, modestly furnished two-bedroom flat with hard-wood floors, and a large window to let in the summer light.

"Wow," she sighed.

"Wow's right," Fred said with an eagerness in his voice like a child at Christmas. "Wanna see our room?"

"Our?" Emma asked, thinking he and George were still sharing a room, like they'd done growing up.

"Yeah," he said, dragging her down the hall by the hand. "Yours and mine."

Something about thinking of 'our' as something she would be sharing with Fred made her heart twist excitedly, and she grinned a bit to match his wide grin, watching him kick back the door.

He must have cleaned up in anticipation of her arrival, because there was no way he would have kept the room that clean for any other reason.

She hardly noticed when he closed the door behind them as she took in the room.

There wasn't much floor space. He'd put a very large bed in the center of the room with a small bedside table to one side of it. His closet was in the corner. She realized the toilet must have been in the room she'd passed on their way to the room.

"I've missed you," he whispered against her neck, and Emma shivered. "I hope it wasn't too awful for you once I left."

She could have told him how Umbridge treated her, trying to get information. She could have mentioned her stress at taking her N.E.W.T.s, her fear at the future, the chaos of her last few days at school...

"Sirius is dead," she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Fred dropped to the spot beside her.

"Yeah," he whispered. "At least they managed to finally clear his name, even if it was only after he died."

"He never got to live his life like he should have," she whispered sadly. "Were you there?"

Fred shook his head.

"I didn't know it happened until the next day. George and I were working, and then we closed up, had some food, went to bed. I had no idea until Mum came and told us."

Emma nodded, looking down at her shoes.

"Then Dumbledore came that evening," he sighed. "He wants George and me to join the Order, officially. They need people, I guess."

"What did you say?" she asked, her stomach clenching as she looked up at him.

He smiled sadly.

"I wanted to wait until I had a chance to talk to you," he admitted with a shrug. "George wanted to wait until I'd decided, although I know he wants to join."

"And you?" Emma asked nervously. "What do you want?"

"Emma," Fred sighed, grasping one of her hands in both of his, "I know you probably want me to stay with you and not do this, but I-"

"Fred, I've already told Dumbledore that I'd join," she said nervously. "He said I could save lives. I... I'm already in the Order. I can't and won't stop you if you want to join, too."

He blinked at her. Then he grinned, although the grin slipped quickly.

"You've joined the Order," he said in a strained, nervous voice. "You've joined the Order... Like Sirius."

Emma pursed her lips together sheepishly, looking down at their hands.

"You want to join too," she pointed out after a brief hesitation. "I don't see why I can't make that decision, too."

"You didn't ask me, though," he sighed. "I wish you would have asked me. I waited to ask you."

"It was a bit different," she said, scrunching her face with annoyance. "I had Professor Dumbledore sitting right there, he made it seem like I had to answer right away. I felt like I didn't have a choice but to say yes or no, and when he mentioned saving lives..."

Fred sighed.

"I suppose I overreacted," he admitted. "I'm just scared of losing you."

A feeling settled in her gut that told her, reminded her about how easy it would be to lose Fred, for Fred to lose her. What would she say if she allowed Fred to fight, and he died? What would she tell his mother? Wouldn't it somehow be her fault? At least her decision would be her own, not something her parents could blame Fred for.

Or couldn't they? She supposed a grieving parent would do anything to find someone tangible to blame.

"So we're both joining the Order then?" he asked nervously, touching her chin.

Emma nodded.

"I guess we are."

"Well, then," he said, his voice a bit more assured, "I guess that means we'll have to live every day like it's the last one, won't we?"

"Don't you already do that?" she snorted.

"Even more so, I mean," he said softly. "Emma, I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered.

"I want to ask you something," he said softly. "I don't want you to interrupt me. I don't want this to be a huge deal. I... Okay?"

"No, that's fine," she said, feeling curiosity filling the pit of her stomach.

"Okay," Fred sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about how I don't want to be without you ever again. I've been thinking about how the war can tear people apart. Bill just got engaged, you know. And Mum and Dad married in the last war. And... I mean, I don't my mother to get her claws into me, make me do a big wedding like Bill's like to have with his high-maintenance fiancée. But I... I want you to be mine, Emma. I want to marry you, on paper anyway, and we won't tell anyone but George and you'd still go by your surname and then after the war we can do a wedding and maybe we'll never tell people that we were already married but I... I want... I..."

He trailed off awkwardly and looked up at Emma with wide eyes, pleading eyes, desperate eyes.

It wasn't how she'd imagined being proposed to. It wasn't what she'd thought of for her wedding or the honeymoon or anything like it, but Fred made a very good point: War tore people apart.

And so she found herself saying yes and Fred kissing her eagerly before she even knew what was happening.

Somehow they'd gone from sitting beside each other at the foot of the bed to him straddling her as she lay back in the middle of the large bed, kissing him hungrily. It had been so long, too long, since she last tasted him, and he tasted even more divine than she had remembered. Her head was spinning with thoughts and emotions and logistics and the feel of him. Everything was moving so fast.

But as they both knew, they'd wasted enough time pretending there was nothing between them.

Emma could feel Fred peeling her sweater off her, was vaguely aware of him tossing his jacket to the side before returning to press open-mouthed kisses across her bared skin. She sighed, running her fingers through his thick red hair.

Why shouldn't they be married?

"Are we going to tell George, at least?" she sighed as he lifted her up slightly to get at the clasp of her bra. He fumbled with it for a moment before she felt the elastic loosen and he pulled it off her.

"Do you want to?" he said, distracted as he pulled off his own shirt, allowing her to run her fingers across the muscles she could happily attribute to Quidditch.

"I don't know," she moaned as he nipped at her breasts playfully while working off her jeans. "I mean, he's so important to you, he'd be upset if we... Mmm, if we didn't... Fred, I can't think when you do that!"

"That's the idea," he teased, licking her through the lace panties Katie had bought her. "You taste so good," he moaned, licking her again.

"We'll discuss later," she sighed, working her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer desperately.

He moaned, the vibration sending a rush of arousal to her core. Fred continued licking through the lace, and Emma found herself grinding slightly against his face, desperate for more friction, for an increase in the pleasurable sensations he was causing in her.

She realized she'd begun whimpering when he fished through his pocket for his wand and muttered something at the door.

They didn't want George walking in or hearing them, of course.

As he continued to lick her ever more vigorously, she was vaguely aware of him undoing his trousers and working his way out of them eagerly.

Emma was barely conscious of the world around her when she hit her climax, and she whimpered slightly as he licked up some of her juices. She was aware that he was pulling her panties off her, down her legs, working them around her feet and sticking them in a drawer that she noted already had a few pairs of panties she'd been missing for a while. She would have giggled if her mind wasn't so hazy from pleasure. Then she watched him take off his pants, kicking them off without a care as to where they were going, and Emma sighed as he leaned down and kissed her vigorously.

It didn't take long for him to enter her, for their bodies to begin a vaguely familiar rhythm, in and out, in and out...

Nothing else mattered but the pleasure rising up inside of her, the taste and feel and smell of Fred all wrapping up her senses and taking over the entire world in her mind. What else could possibly matter? She had Fred and... and...

He was beginning to groan quite gutturally, and she could feel her own breath shortening. Close, so close...

She grasped at his sweat-coated back desperately. They came undone together, her screaming out his name, him crying out his forceful cry of pleasure, and then they collapsed together, their bodies intertwined more than Emma had realized when they were making love. Fred nuzzled his face against her chest, resting his head against her breasts. She lay back against the pillows, running her fingers lazily and happily through his sweat-soaked red hair.

"I love you," Emma whispered. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, beautiful," he sighed, his breath tickling her skin. "Let's just stay like this forever, never leave this room again."

Emma would have agreed with that plan wholeheartedly, but there were things to do, and that was without getting married and fighting in a war.

They showered after lounging in his (their) bed together for about an hour, and then they went out to help George make dinner, only to find that he'd already made it.

"Well, I was hungry," he teased. "I wasn't about to wait around and see when you two were done shagging like bunnies."

Despite the joke at her expense, Emma was so hungry she found she couldn't be upset with George, even a little bit.

They had dinner together, almost like family, and Emma ate with her left hand so she could hold Fred's hand as she ate. Despite the fact that she knew they would have plenty of time together, she'd been longer than she wanted without him, and so she didn't want to let him go.

"So how were your N.E.W.T.s do you think?" George asked casually.

Emma shrugged.

"I think they were all right," she admitted. "I'll find out soon enough, I suppose. But all I really need is a good score in Muggle Studies, which I'm sure I got. I'm probably working in your dad's department."

The twins shifted almost uncomfortably in their chairs. Emma frowned at them, wondering what the problem was.

"Well, you won't make a lot," Fred said slowly, "but George and I are doing quite well enough that you don't really need to worry about that. But... well, working for the Ministry isn't exactly what I would wish on anyone at the moment."

Ah, yes, that.

Emma sighed and said, "You know, Fred, it's a good placement for the Order, and I do need a job."

"No, you don't," Fred said firmly, and she frowned.

"Fred, even if we're married, I want to have my own job," she said slowly.

"Yes, I know," he said, realizing that it was important to her. "But... but you don't _have_ to. If you decide you don't want to work for the Ministry of Morons after all, you don't _have_ to work. At least, not until you find something that suits you. I... you know what I mean."

In a way she did. He was proud that he could provide for her, that financially she had no need to work, but it wasn't finances she was thinking about. It was her sanity.

But she understood how important it was to him, so she just said, "I understand. But let's not talk about my stuff, okay? Tell me about the joke shop."

So the twins eagerly obliged, telling her all about the joke shop, a few anecdotes about customers, and some top-secret information on the things they were developing.

"I think I'll take you down tomorrow to take a look at the stuff," Fred said happily. "And then I'll take you out for ice cream. And then maybe I'll take you shopping, since you did leave some stuff at your parents' place, and-"

"I get the idea, thanks, Fred," she sighed.

And get married.

They were going to get married the following day, and from the sound of things Fred was going to spoil her on top of it all. He did have money to blow, from the looks of things, but that didn't mean she was entirely comfortable with him blowing it all on her. She would allow it for a little while to make up for not consulting with him before committing to the Order, but they were going to have to have a talk about how he behaved toward spending gold on her.

The three of them finished dinner and then settled in the common area, Fred and Emma curling up on the sofa and George laying down on the rug on the floor because he wanted to lie down and stare at the ceiling, he said.

"We're done," George said after a moment. "I mean, for all of us, school's over. We're adults, like our parents."

"Except not like our parents," Fred said quickly.

"Right but... well, I mean, we're joining the Order, aren't we? All the things we were so eager for not so long ago... I don't know if I'm so eager right now."

Fred shifted a bit, holding Emma a bit tighter, and even though he didn't say as much out loud she knew by the way he pulled her closer to his chest that he wasn't feeling quite so eager, either, not anymore.

"What do you think a wizarding war will be like?" she asked. "Anything like the Muggle wars?"

"I dunno," George said with a shrug, putting his hands on his chest. "What are Muggle wars like?"

Emma thought for a moment, pursing her lips together, considering all she had learned in her Muggle history books she'd spent years reading by the light of a torch. With a sigh, she said, "They're bloody, messy, full of death and destruction and loss, and usually not for very good reasons. Someone wins and someone loses and the losers are punished."

Then she shrugged.

George nodded slowly.

"I think it's going to be just like that," he said sadly. "I think we've only seen the very beginning with this battle at the Ministry. The real question is if the Ministry is going to wake up and act properly or if we're still going to be fighting a two-front war."

Emma shivered slightly, feeling Fred hugging her tightly as she did so.

"Maybe we should go to bed," Fred muttered. "See you in the morning, Georgie."

"Yeah," George teased. "I won't be waking you up, so you'll need to be getting your own lazy arses out of bed. I'm not walking in on you two all naked. Have fun, though."

Emma didn't pay much attention to George's teasing as she got up and led Fred to their room, but Fred kicked his leg playfully as they passed him.

"I love you," Fred whispered, pulling off his clothes and climbing into bed before Emma, who followed suit, cuddling close to him. "You know that?"

She nodded, kissing his chest.

"I love you too, Fred," she whispered.

"And that's all that matters," he said softly, caressing her hair.

All that mattered.


	19. Mrs Emma Weasley

Fred was good for his word when the morning came. Emma awoke to him kissing her neck tenderly, wondering where she was for a moment, until she remembered that she had left Hogwarts, graduated, and she was living with Fred and George in London.

Living together.

Mrs. Weasley would have fits, but Emma wasn't sure when they would tell her that they'd married, when they would feel comfortable telling her that they'd eloped secretly.

She would have fits about that, too, so Emma figured that one set of fits couldn't be any worse than the other.

Of course, they weren't married yet. That was on the agenda for the day, though.

"Good morning, beautiful," Fred murmured, kissing her lips gently when he saw that her eyes were open and that she was awake and aware of him. "Did you sleep well last night?"

Emma shrugged.

"I suppose so," she sighed. "I don't know that I didn't."

"Your face was so peaceful this morning," he sighed. "I couldn't bring myself to wake you."

Well, that was sweet of him.

"Come on, we've got to get breakfast and go on about our day," he said gently. "We've got lots of things to do."

They got out of bed and dressed, Fred going out of his way to dress her, making the pitiful excuse of wanting to be helpful when she knew he really just wanted reasons to touch her. Then they went out to the kitchen, made some quick breakfast, gulped down some tea, and then he led her down to the shop.

"Wow."

That was all she could see when she saw the splendor that was Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She was bombarded by an onslaught of color, motion, and sound that threatened to make her sick.

"There's so much _stuff_!" she said, shocked. "How did you get all this done so quickly?"

Fred just winked at her the way he did when he wanted to keep a secret, so she merely rolled her eyes internally and let him lead her around the shop, pointing things out here and there that he thought she would be impressed with.

"And these!" Fred said excitedly, pointing out some boxed sweets. "These you might be familiar with."

Emma picked up a box and read, "Puking Pastille. Oh, yes, Fred, I don't think any of us will ever forget these, Katie most particularly."

He winced a little at that, but kept leading her boldly through the shop.

"What's that?" Emma asked, pointing to a pink stand with pink and purple merchandise all over it. She never thought she'd see such colors in the shop, and Fred wrinkled his nose at it.

"Wonder Witch line," he said. "You don't need any of that stuff. It's silliness."

Emma still wondered what was there, but she sensed that Fred really didn't want to tell her about it, so she didn't press him and decided she would ask George or Tien about it later.

"C'mon," Fred said, grin restored. "Let's go out so I can spoil you!"

George begrudgingly said that he, Verity, and Tien would be able to handle the shop without Fred, not that Fred bothered waiting for that answer before yanking Emma away into Diagon Alley where they stopped for ice cream at Florean's first thing.

"Two peanut butter and raspberry swirls, please," Fred said happily, and Florean Fortescue himself served them their ice cream.

"I'll have to drop by that shop sometime," Florean told Fred with a smile. "My customers all say wonderful things about it. You're a huge hit!"

"Thanks, mate!" Fred replied. "You'll get a discount, too!"

Fred explained as they ate their ice cream and looked at the brooms in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies that Florean had been very good to them since they'd arrived, giving them discounts when they'd first arrived and turning lots of business their way when they'd first opened their doors.

"Mail orders from Hogwarts were plenty steady, but that can only account for so much of our business," he said with a shrug. "I figure it will go down a bit next year, too, without Umbridge to force the students to rally together. We'll still get plenty of sales, but it won't be the same."

Once they finished their ice cream he dragged her into Madam Malkins to get her several sets of robes, which he had delivered to the shop in his name.

"George'll put them in our room," Fred said excitedly. "C'mon, Muggle London!"

They went out into the world of Muggle London, which Fred had changed some of his money to Muggle money for the purpose of shopping.

"We need to get you some more clothes," he insisted. "You'll have a uniform for work, and you've got some wizarding clothes, but you're going to want to go into the Muggle world sometimes with friends, and you don't have a lot of Muggle clothes in your trunk."

He was right, of course.

"Besides," he said, kissing her neck as he walked her into a large shopping center, "I want to get you a fancy dress for your wedding day."

Emma had never known how much Fred would want to spoil her, as he had never really had a lot of money before, but now that he was suddenly rolling in Galleons, he seemed to want to spend all of it on her.

"Fred, you can't keep buying me stuff all the time," she told him as he carried the bags. "For one thing, we're going to run out of room in the flat..."

"I know," he assured her. "I'm just making up for the one thing I can't buy you right now, but so want to."

Emma frowned, unable to think of what he was talking about.

"A wedding ring, you silly girl," he laughed, kissing her cheek. "Come on, now, I'm making you Mrs. Fred Weasley as soon as we can get you to sign the papers. Move it, love!"

She laughed, letting him lead the way.

The getting married to Fred wasn't anything like Emma had dreamed growing up. There was a document to sign, a man declaring them man and wife, and Fred kissed her for good measure, but they were just Fred and Emma one moment, and then they were handed papers that promised they were man and wife a moment later, Fred and Emma Weasley.

"We're married," Fred whispered when they'd gotten back to the flat, lying in bed together, just staring at each other. "You're Emma Weasley. We're married."

"Yes," she said softly. "We really are."

"This is weird," he admitted. "But... but I like it."

"Me too."

What did it mean to be Emma Weasley? Apparently it meant the exact same thing as being Emma Norwick, just with a different last name, which was also not what Emma had expected. She didn't have any different duties or expectations for her once they were married. George didn't even know the difference, and if George couldn't tell something had changed, it must be that nothing had changed at all.

They had agreed that Fred wouldn't tell George and Emma wouldn't tell Tien, but that those two would be the first to know when they finally did spread the news.

In the meantime, Emma was helping at the shop, ringing up purchases, since she couldn't answer questions about the product or recommend things like the others all could. She waited for her N.E.W.T. scores and the letter she knew would welcome her to her job at the Ministry. She waited for her first Order meeting. She pulled her fair share in the chores at the flat, and she and Fred made love each night, having been so starved of each other while she was at school.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered one night after a long day at the shop. "You have built such a wonderful life and when everyone seemed to think you two weren't going to amount to anything."

"You didn't think that, did you?" Fred teased. Emma just laughed, kissing him, not wanting to answer the question. She'd always know they were brilliant, of course, but there had been times, when they were younger, that she had been very, very worried that Fred and George would 'not care' themselves into being absolutely worthless.

She'd never been so glad to be wrong about anything in her life.

Life as Emma Weasley wasn't so different from life as Emma Norwick, but she decided that she liked it better, if only because she felt she had some right to Fred, some right to knowing that no one would take him from her, and if death should choose to do so, she would have a right to mourn as his wife instead of just a girlfriend.

It gave her more rights, and in a time of war such things suddenly felt so much more important than she would have ever anticipated. She only wished she could have told Sirius all about it.

Emma found herself being woken up by Fred's lips at her breast, and her eyes fluttered open sleepily, seeing him nibbling her nipple lightly. She bit her lip to hold in her moan, and she realized that he was looking at her skin and hadn't realized that she was awake.

There was something in his hand, she realized, something with a Ministry seal and her name on it. Before she had a chance to reach for it, he moved his mouth from her breast to her stomach and she moaned in protest, startling him.

"You're awake," he said softly, looking up at her. "This came for you just now."

She unceremoniously ripped the letter from his hands and he just chuckled, turning back to pressing his lips to her skin as she tore the envelope open, revealing her N.E.W.T. scores, which was exactly what she had hoped to find.

"Well?" he whispered against her skin as she scanned the parchment. "How did you do?"

"Three O's!" she said breathlessly. "And I passed everything, even History!"

"Even Potions?" he teased.

"I got an E!" she marveled. "I don't even know how I managed that, Snape never indicated that my work could get such a score!"

Fred snorted.

Well, so maybe she was never going to get a representative score from Snape because she was a Gryffindor. Still, she'd barely passed in all of the practice exams with Snape, even when she did manage to pass. By consequence she'd thrown herself into that exam most vigorously of all, and apparently it had paid off.

"Hey, did you see this?" Fred said, holding up a smaller piece of folded parchment that must have fallen out when she'd been paying attention to her scores.

Emma took the parchment from him and opened it, scanning it quickly.

She'd already had a pretty good idea what it was going to say, but the confirmation was both relieving and terrifying all at once.

"Well," she sighed, "I've got a job. I start Monday. I've got to get robes for work this weekend."

"I'm on it, love," he muttered, kissing her cheek. "I'll talk to Dad and get it all sorted out for you. Don't worry about a thing."

She rolled her eyes behind the parchment.

Fred was wonderful, but his insistence on showering her with gifts could get a bit burdensome at times, and she was already getting annoyed by it. She decided not to worry about it at that moment, that she could start throwing fits when she had her own income to throw into the picture, which wouldn't be too long at all.

Of course, they couldn't live in the fairytale world of her living in Fred's bed and having no other responsibilities but helping out where she could around the flat and shop. The real world had to sink in sooner or later, and it turned out to come upon them rather sooner than anyone would have liked.

An Order meeting was called at Grimmauld Place, and the three of them were invited.

So Fred and Emma arrived at Grimmauld Place hand-in-hand, with George trailing a little behind them, and Molly pushed a plate of biscuits on them almost the moment they walked in the door.

"I heard from Arthur that you got the job at the Ministry, dear," Molly said kindly to Emma. "Congratulations! You must be so excited!"

Maybe Molly wasn't aware that Emma basically had to take the job because of the Order, regardless of whether or not it was actually the thing Emma wanted to do most, but she took a biscuit and thanked her secret mother-in-law graciously for the praise.

There were plenty of familiar faces amongst the Order members: most of the Weasleys, a couple of Hogwarts professors - current and former, and a few people Emma really only knew by face and name and stories she'd gotten from Sirius while she was at headquarters over Christmas. Fred and Emma settled next to Bill, who was looking even more jolly and Weasley-ish than usual, which was really saying something if Emma considered it. Bill had always been such a Weasley.

"Hey, brother," Bill said to Fred. "Hey, brother's girlfriend."

Emma just smiled and greeted him softly, but Fred frowned.

"Her name's Emma, Bill," he said sharply. "Anyway, have you got any idea what this meeting's all about?"

Bill shrugged.

"New members, so it could just be mostly getting you all into the swing of things, but there've been some negative blips on the radar recently and so I'm sure we'll discuss those."

"Like what?" Emma asked.

"You're not reading the papers, are you?" Bill asked, brow furrowed.

But she barely had a chance to begin shaking her head when Dumbledore cleared his throat, raised his hand, and called the meeting into order.

"Thank you," he said softly, as the room grew silently almost instantly. "As I am sure you have all noticed we have several new additions to our number. You're all quite familiar, of course, with Molly and Arthur's twins, Fred and George. Their joke shop is on Diagon Alley, as you probably know, and is in fact home of some quite delightful tricks and magical marvels." The twins bowed comically in their seats. "We all so have Mr. Lee Jordan, who is working for the WWN, which will give us some fresh insight into the media leads, and Miss Emma Norwick who is working in Arthur Weasley's old job at the Ministry, because as many of you have heard, Arthur has been promoted."

There was a smattering of applause, and then Emma's heart jumped clear into her throat.

She hadn't thought about it earlier, but now that she thought about it, there was a vague recollection that the little slip of paper had said that she was the _head_ of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. There was only one elderly wizard reporting to her, but still...

She was technically in charge of something, and the thought was terrifying.

The news, she found, was two deaths that were a blow to their cause which had happened quite recently. Amelia Bones, not an Order member but a Ministry worker very outspokenly on their side of things, had been killed. Apparently her brother had been an Order member during the first war, so the Order was claiming her as one of their own. The other death was Emmeline Vance, an actual Order member who hadn't been old enough have been fighting in the first war, but she'd been active from the first in this second war.

It was all so real. The deaths, the war, the possibility that she herself could become a target in the mess that was the war. Sirius dying was one thing, but finding herself in the middle of it all was another thing entirely. She really had to recognize the risks she was taking when she saw Molly Weasley dabbing her eyes sneakily and Emma realized that she and Fred really didn't know when they were going to tell his family that they'd gotten married. She didn't know when she'd next talk to her own parents, either, much less tell them that she'd eloped.

The rest of the discussion was really not relevant to Emma at all, since she hadn't started her job yet, so she just listened with most of her energy and looked around at the others in the room with the rest of her energy.

Her eyes fell on Remus Lupin, and she thought of Sirius as well. Remus was already looking much older than he should, and Sirius had as well. She could contribute that to lycanthropy and Azkaban, but Emma knew that a part of it was the war. All she had to do was look at Mad-Eye Moody to know just how dangerous a job she'd taken on.

Kingsley, the man who was shadowing the Muggle Prime Minister, Tonks the Auror who was Sirius's cousin... They were young, in the prime of their adult lives, although admittedly not as young as Emma and the twins. Still, they were already starting to bear the signs of having fought in and lived in the war. If this war dragged on very long at all, they would no doubt be quite old before their time. Would Fred? Would Emma? Would George?

It was strange, thinking of Fred and George aging at all.

Sure, she had seen them as old men when they'd had the Aging Potion backfire in their sixth year, but it wasn't the same thing. What about those years in between? They were so childish, so incredibly youthful, that she could hardly believe they would ever really age until they were so old that they aged all at once, as they had when they'd tried to outsmart Albus Dumbledore.

She looked up into the headmaster's eyes then, as if she were looking for answers, but all she found in those blue eyes was a knowing look and she didn't know how he knew, or how she knew that he knew, but it was clear to her in that moment that three, not two, people sitting at that kitchen table knew that she was Emma Weasley, and no longer Emma Norwick.


	20. Working For The Ministry

Emma rolled her hair into a bun on the top of her head, hands shaking as she was approaching the end of her second week of work at the Ministry. She'd already pulled on her robes and she realized vaguely that she would need another set so that she wasn't washing so often, because it was exhausting and Fred wasn't half as good at it as she was.

"You look lovely this morning, my love," Fred cooed, kissing her cheek. "Hope you're not cheating with old Perkins."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"You're looking fairly dapper yourself," she teased. "Been running around with Tien?"

Fred shuddered and winced.

"If I ever even joked about something like that darling," he said solemnly, "have me taken to St. Mungo's, because it means something is terribly, horribly wrong."

"Noted," she sighed, dabbing on a bit of lip gloss. "Was it George's morning to make breakfast?"

Fred nodded, stretching a bit as he looked for his shoes.

"Yeah, so you may want to grab something on your way to work."

"Be nice," she chastised playfully.

George's breakfasts weren't as bad as all that, but they certainly left something to be desired. She probably would grab something on the way.

Emma kicked the missing shoe out from under the little table she'd set up under the mirror so she could put on her makeup in their room and Fred yelped when it hit him in the leg.

"Thanks, darling," he said dryly, "but next time try not to assault me, would you?"

"I'll do my best, dear," she said with a playful sigh. "I've got to get going if I'm going to pick up food to go or I'll be late. How do I look?"

"Excellent."

"You're not even looking."

"I don't have to, you're always excellent."

Emma was torn between being flattered and being annoyed, so she just kissed his cheek when he straightened from putting his shoe on and said, "I'll see you for lunch if there's no raids, love. Don't have too much fun without me, okay?"

"I'll do my very best," he teased, realizing his fly was undone and doing it up, straightening out his hair as she backed toward the door. "I do work in a joke shop, though, so it might be a bit difficult."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do?"

He sighed.

"Emma, you know I would have to find another line of work for that," he said with a small smirk.

She just shook her head, kissed his cheek again, and took off to work, deciding to walk so she could find breakfast along the way.

"Are you leaving already?" George whined as she grabbed her bag, which she had left by the couch. "I made breakfast."

"And it smells lovely," Emma lied, "but I'm going to be late if I don't get going now, and you know Perkins. He'll be late no matter what! So I've got to go, but I'm sure it's a lovely breakfast, sorry!"

She rushed out the door and made her way down Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron, through the Pub, which was very much empty at this time of the morning except for Tom the bartender, who waved at her as she went through. When she found herself in Muggle London, she followed the familiar bath toward the Ministry worker's entrance, keeping her eyes peeled for the cafe she sometimes stopped at on the way to work.

When she pushed open the door, she saw the familiar face of Porter, the son of the owners who always worked mornings while his parents slept in. He was a couple of years older than Emma, and he always brightened up when he saw her.

"Hey, Emma!" he said happily. "Breakfast?"

"Yes, please," she sighed. "To go. I've got work."

"You've not said what you do," he said, getting some tea brewing for her and starting a breakfast sandwich. "Something for the government?"

"Yeah," she said awkwardly. "I can't really talk about it... It's sort of in the diplomacy and public relations sector. It's... complicated."

"You're so smart," he said, grinning at her. "I never could have pulled that off, especially so young."

Emma shrugged, tapping her fingers on the counter slightly impatiently. She'd told Porter that she'd skipped a few years in school because it was easier than explaining that she'd not been to university and somehow had a fabulous government job.

"So, what are you doing after work?" he asked.

Shrugging, Emma said, "I dunno, probably just relax a bit. They've been making a lot of changes in the last week or so and it's been really stressful."

He hesitated a moment, putting a bit of honey in her tea like she liked and stirring.

"If... if you want I know this great place... we could get dinner..."

Emma blinked.

"I, um... Porter, I'm married," she said sheepishly, wondering how she could have completely missed that this sweet boy had been flirting with her for weeks. It suddenly made perfect sense that she and Fred had spent years not realizing that their crushes were mutual. They were pathetic.

"Oh," Porter said, visibly dampened by this news, but his eyes slightly suspicious. "You... you don't wear a ring and you haven't ever mentioned..."

"We married recently," Emma explained nervously, trying not to seem rushed as he put a lid on her tea and began putting her sandwich together. "And we've not decided how we're breaking the news to his mother yet, so there's no ring at the moment. And I never mentioned because you never asked and I didn't think... I mean, it never came up." She bit her lip as he put the sandwich in a to-go bag. "Look, I'm sorry if-"

"Don't worry about it," Porter sighed. "He's a lucky guy, whoever he is. Hope work's okay."

"Thanks," she muttered awkwardly, feeling like there was something else she should say, but she couldn't think of it so she just took her food and tea and left, wondering if she should make a point to find another breakfast place on her route to work.

On the job, Emma dealt primarily with Perkins and a few other offices that dealt with catastrophes and accidents. Due to the war, most of the crimes that she was dealing with had a bit of a sinister tinge, so she didn't talk about her work with Fred, who worried far too much already. She'd never had to do more than write reports to anyone above her in the Ministry, but that morning she had a surprise visitor.

"Percy?" she gasped, seeing the familiar ginger standing in her office when she arrived, drinking the last of her tea. "What are you doing here?"

Surely he wasn't looking for his father. He would have known that his father had been promoted to a different department.

"Miss Norwick," Percy said sharply. "The Minister wishes me to fetch you."

The Minister? Scrimgeour? What had she done?

"What for?"

Percy said nothing and began leading her down the hall. She hadn't spoken to him since he graduated, she realized, and since before he'd fallen out with his family, before she'd started dating Fred.

Did Percy know that she was with Fred? Did he suspect that she was an Order member? She could certainly lose her job for that, if nothing worse, but then she would lose her usefulness to the Order, her chance to save lives. Emma could feel her stomach churning at the thought, her hands clenching and unclenching nervously as she walked.

Rufus Scrimgeour was sitting at his desk when Percy led her into his office, a solemn look on his face, which was surrounded by a mess of hair that made him look a bit like a lion. But he'd been in Slytherin, not Gryffindor. Somehow, in light of recent events, that didn't make Emma feel any more secure about standing in his office.

"Miss Norwick," he rumbled. "Have a seat. Leave us, Weasley."

Percy bowed his head slightly and left, closing the door and enclosing Emma in with her boss, the man she was meeting for the first time. It took everything in her to keep her face neutral and not completely tense up. She sat down as requested and looked up at him, forcing herself to breathe as smoothly as possible.

"Would you care for something to drink, Miss Norwick?"

In her mind she was suddenly back in Umbridge's office, about to be interrogated for the dozenth time. She shook her head.

"I've just had a cuppa," she said softly.

"Are you quite sure?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded. He didn't seem the type to force her to have something to drink, unlike Umbridge. "Was there something you needed me for?"

"I see that you're acquainted with Percy Weasley," Scrimgeour said, watching her for a reaction which didn't come.

"We were in school together for several years, sir," she explained.

"And the rest of his family?"

"I'm friends with his brothers, who were in my year," she offered, trying not to shift in her seat. There was no secret at all that the Weasleys were in Dumbledore's inner circle, a place that Scrimgeour seemed to want to infiltrate badly. According to the papers, things hadn't been going well between the two of them at all.

"I see," he said, tapping his fingers on his desk. "You were a Gryffindor, were you not?"

"Yes, sir," Emma said slowly, wondering where this was going.

"So you knew Harry Potter."

And that's where it was going. Scrimgeour's infamous 'falling out' with Dumbledore supposedly had something to do with Harry. He would want to use her to convince Harry of something, or to pass on some sort of message. But obviously whatever Scrimgeour wanted wasn't what Dumbledore wanted, so it probably wasn't what was good for Harry or the war.

"Not very well, sir," Emma said, not exactly lying. "It was only ever proximal. I could count our brief conversations on my fingers."

"I see," he said, obviously masking his disappointment. "And Albus Dumbledore? Did you have a particularly close relationship with him?"

"No, I wouldn't say so, sir," Emma said honestly. "I must have spoken with him all of three times in school, and it was all logistical concerns."

"I see," Scrimgeour said, and from the look on his face Emma would have guessed that he didn't entirely believe her. "And now that you are out of Hogwarts? Have you had contact with him since then?"

Had she had contact with him? Not exactly. Had she seen him? Absolutely, but she'd not said a word at Order meetings yet, and she certainly hadn't been spoken to directly by Albus Dumbledore, when he was at the meetings anyway. So that didn't count, did it?

"No, I have not, sir," Emma said softly. "May I ask what exactly you want from me, sir? I have quite a few reports to finish filling out, sir, and I am not certain of what I am here for."

Perhaps he had hesitated for a moment, wondering if he could actually tell Emma whatever the reason for bringing her had been, but she knew that it would be something about the Order, something about Dumbledore, and telling an employee who claimed to know nothing would be dangerous for him. Either it would be an admittance of his own inadequacy in dealing with those forces to someone who had been oblivious, or it would be a tipoff to Dumbledore if she were lying.

"Well," Scrimgeour then said, "I suppose you can go now, Miss Norwick. See that your work on those reports is thorough. You have been given quite a lot of responsibility right away, and I would hate for that to swallow you up."

My heart pounded as I nodded, thanked him, and left his office to go back to my place.

He might not have been able to prove anything, but if that wasn't a warning to watch my back, I didn't know what was.

What happened that day, though, was a disaster. Emma got a memo that told her that she needed to go check out a bridge that had been collapsed by the Death Eaters.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked the man from the Muggle Liaison office. "Is this really my department?"

"The bridge was a Muggle artifact, was it not?"

Emma tried to explain that bridges were architectural structures, not artifacts, but she was still very new, so nobody really wanted to listen to her, despite the fact that she was Muggle-born.

When she got to the bridge, she looked around, trying to find the Ministry representatives.

"Muggle Artifacts?"

She turned to find a man watching her with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," she said. "Emma W-Norwick. You?"

"Oscar Felix, Accidents and Catastrophes. We've got Jordan Rodier out of Muggle Liaison, Angus Leriche as our Obliviator, and Callum Barta and Nymphadora Tonks out of the Aurors Office."

"Right," Emma said nervously. At least there would be a familiar face in all the mess. "Why am I hear, Oscar? This doesn't have anything to do with my department."

Oscar shrugged.

"We were told specifically from the Minister's office to get you in on it. I'm not sure why. It's not standard."

Ah, so that's what the game was. Scrimgeour was making her workload ridiculously heavy trying to get her out of the Ministry because he didn't trust her. Whether he knew she was Dumbledore's agent or not, he certainly didn't want to take a risk on it.

Well, that just meant that she would have to make sure that she got everything done and to even better quality than was expected of her, because she wasn't going to lose her job.

"What's happened, then?" she asked, checking her watch and wondering how many memos were piling up on her desk while she was gone.

She got a brief description of what they thought had happened at the bridge and she was wondering why there was even a taskforce on it other than for show. The damage couldn't be reversed with such a small taskforce, and it would be harder to deal with the Muggles that way, anyway. And there would be no hope of catching the culprits at this point. They were Death Eaters. Telling one from another with such a non-specific crime would be impossible.

"All right, I want to see Nymphadora Tonks," she said, and Oscar nodded, leading the way to where Tonks was arguing with a young man Emma assumed must be Callum.

"Emma?" Tonks asked. "Why are you on this? I thought you had Arthur's old job."

"I do," Emma said with a snort. "Scrimgeour doesn't like me and is looking for excuses to fire me. I believe the latest is sending me on ridiculous irrelevant things like this in hopes that I'll get behind on my paperwork."

Tonks snorted.

"Clever," she said. "I would have thought he'd have enough legitimate stuff to throw at you that he wouldn't need to be so obvious about it. Well, as you can see, it's pretty straightforward. Go ahead and do you write-up, Oscar and I will sign off on it-"

"Why are _you_ signing off on it?" Callum whined.

"Because you're still in training and I'm in charge," Tonks said sassily. "Anyway, we'll take care of it, Emma, don't worry. Oscar will probably give somebody an earful and we'll see what we can do so you aren't dragged along on wild goose chases like this again. Merlin knows you've got enough work to do."

Emma sighed heavily with relief.

"Thanks, Tonks," she said eagerly. "I'm sure Fred would thank you, too, if I told him about this. I would have been working through half the night otherwise."

"Yeah, yeah," Tonks waved her off teasingly. "You go off and write so you can spend the night with your lover."

Emma smiled, laughed, and went back to her office right away, but when she sat down at her desk and pulled out everything she needed to work on the various reports she was writing up, Emma realized there was something off about Tonks's demeanor.

She hadn't noticed at first because she'd subconsciously attributed it to Tonks being at work and not in an Order meeting, but then Emma realized that she hadn't really noticed it until the end of the conversation, until Tonks was talking about her and Fred. In fact, the most markedly strange bit was the almost bitter way Tonks had said the word 'lover'.

Could Tonks be in love with someone?

Well, of course she could be, Emma chastised herself. After all, she was young, vibrant, pretty. Sure, she was a part of a top-secret organization and had one of the most time-consuming jobs on the planet, but who said that couldn't work? After all, the same could be said of Emma and Fred's relationship.

But what made their relationship easier was that they were both in that top-secret organization.

And then Emma thought that perhaps the person Tonks was in love with was a part of the Order as well. Who could that be? There wasn't anyone Tonks's age but Charlie and Bill, and Bill was engaged and Charlie on the other end of the continent. So it would have to be someone older. Kingsley? Dedalus? Remus?

Each of them had their plusses and minuses and it didn't take Emma long to decide it would almost have to be Kingsley or Remus.

She didn't have a lot of time to dwell on the consideration of which of the two it was, but she made a mental note to consider it later, to watch Tonks closer at meetings. After all, it wasn't enough to simply have a job, a husband, and fight a war. Emma needed a hobby as well.

And with that she turned back to the pile of paperwork on her desk, determined not to give Scrimgeour any purpose to fire her.


	21. Secrets and Suspense

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my reader, **_**Supernatural Believer**_**, who has pointed out that I MESSED UP. If you were confused, Emma's a Ravenclaw, NOT a Gryffindor. Disregard any spot where I've said otherwise and slap my wrists if you see me mess up so terribly again. Sigh. I apologize. It's one of the hazards of doing a bajillion stories at once on top of original work. I'm amazed I even remember my own name. Still, no excuses and a BIG thank you to **_**Supernatural Believer**_**!**

** -C**

Emma had gotten into the routine of being at the Ministry, and it seemed that either someone had talked him out of it or Scrimgeour had decided that she wasn't worth the effort of chasing away because her workload had become reasonable again, and she even got to work fairly close with Arthur Weasley on a regular basis.

"Fred said Harry's coming to live with you," she said over lunch in the Ministry cafeteria.

"Yes, in a few days," Arthur said, looking Emma up and down, chewing on his bite of sandwich and considering, like he wanted to say something but was afraid.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" Emma asked, mixing the dressing into her salad a bit more with her fork.

He took a deep breath, then leaned forward a bit and lowered his voice.

"I know you're living with Fred," he whispered. "Everyone knows you're staying with Fred and George. And it's putting Molly through fits but... Well, there's something different about you lately, Emma. I hate to ask but... did you elope with Fred?"

Emma dropped her fork, shocked.

It wasn't that she'd ever thought that Arthur Weasley was stupid. In fact, she knew that he and his wife were both incredibly intelligent, which was shown easily in their many children. But what clue could she have given that would have led him to even suspect the truth of what he had just asked.

"I-I-"

"I would suspect that's a yes," Arthur sighed. "Don't worry, I won't tell Molly or anyone else. You forget Molly and I eloped during the first war. Many others did as well. I can recognize the signs, although you were very good at hiding it, I have to confess."

"You're not upset?" Emma said softly, feeling pink color her cheeks.

"And why would I be?" Arthur said cheerfully. "Molly was honestly worried that Fred would never get married, or if he did it would be to someone totally... well, a bad fit. Anyway, you're a lovely, talented, intelligent young woman. Fred clearly loves you. I think Fred eloping saves his mother the stress of rowing with him over the wedding, anyway."

She laughed. She hadn't thought of that, but it was probably true.

"Thank you, Arthur," she said with a smile. "It means a lot to me."

"Glad to have you as a Weasley, dear," he said genuinely. Then he leaned over a bit further and said, "Besides, it's especially good to have a daughter-in-law who can teach me more about Muggles."

Emma laughed again and said, "I'd be happy to," which was true. Now that Arthur knew about their being married it was like she had a parent again, although she didn't have her own parents. The Weasleys had always been like surrogate parents, anyway, though, treating her with as much or more care as her own parents had since she'd known them.

In a way having someone else know was like a weight off Emma's chest, and that was when she came to a decision.

"Hello to you too, love," Fred laughed as Emma came bursting into the door, grabbing him by his collar and basically dragging him to their bedroom. When she closed the door behind him and put up a silencing charm Fred came up behind her, moving her hair over one shoulder and whispering in her ear, "Long day at work, beautiful?"

"We need to talk," she said.

Fred groaned then, falling to sit on the foot of the bed, pouting at her.

"You got me all excited," he complained. "What is so important that it can't wait until I make you scream my name?"

Emma shivered slightly, wondering how exactly he was planning to do that, but she needed to stay focused, so she kissed his forehead gently and said, "In a minute. Your dad knows."

He frowned.

"He knows what?"

"He knows we eloped," Emma whispered, even though she knew George couldn't hear. "He figured it out somehow on his own and I wasn't about to lie right to his face. He said he wouldn't tell your mother-"

"Thank Merlin," Fred exhaled.

"But I think we should tell George," Emma finished quickly. "I mean, George and Tien. They'll keep the secret and I feel bad about them not knowing."

Fred blinked, sighing and pulling Emma into his lap.

"Wow," he muttered. "I really didn't see this coming."

"Nor did I," Emma admitted. "He just seemed like he had something on his mind and when I asked..." She shrugged, trailing off.

"Yeah," Fred nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right, we're going to have to tell them. They deserve to know before Mum does, and George might even run into the paperwork at some point if he's looking through our room for something. I keep my plans in the same box."

Emma tried very hard not to roll her eyes at how silly her husband could sometimes be.

"So," she sighed, "I propose that we tell George and Tien straight away after you make me scream your name. Objections?"

He smirked, pushing her down onto the bed.

"Now how could I possibly object to anything that involves you screaming my name?" he muttered, beginning by peeling off her clothes and kissing every inch of her body.

Of course, she screamed his name multiple times before they were done, but when they finally collapsed together in their bed she turned to him and said, "All right, now we've got to go tell them."

Fred groaned.

"But we're all sweaty and sticky and ruffled," he pointed out.

"You did make a deal, darling," she reminded him. "I'm going to hold you to it, so you're going to have to either go out there like this or freshen yourself a bit before you go out, but you're going out there and in what state is entirely up to you."

Emma really didn't care very much if George or Tien knew that she and Fred had been having sex. She just needed to throw her clothes back on. They probably assumed that they'd been having sex anyway.

As it turned out, Fred agreed with her in this sentiment, not bothering to do more than pull on his trousers before following her out into the living area where Tien was going over some information on one of the products they were coming out with in a month's time on the sofa.

"Well hello there," George said with a playful eyebrow wiggle. "Look who decided to surface. Might have at least pretended we didn't all know what you two were doing in there, you know."

"Why bother?" Tien said with a shrug. "Pretending's a waste of energy."

George just shrugged and grinned and looked at Emma and Fred expectantly, who were exchanging nervous glances.

"Yes?" he prompted. "Was there something you were going to say before we chided you on your practices?"

"Don't say 'we'," Tien clucked. "I chided you, not them. They've not done anything yet worthy of my chiding."

Emma sighed, turning to Fred, who shrugged. Then she turned back to her friends.

"So Fred and I got married," she muttered.

There was a mass of unified blinking for several long moments before George finally said, "Since you've not started laughing yet, Freddie, I'm going to assume that this actually happened."

"Yeah, it did," Fred said with a nervous smile. "We wanted to keep it a secret, mostly so Mum doesn't go mental, but somehow dad figured it out and we figured that if he knows then you two should no. But no one else. We really don't want Mum going mental."

Tien blinked again and then shrieked, "Are you pregnant? Am I going to be a godmother?"

Emma couldn't help but think that if she were actually pregnant that Tien would probably be a bit low on her list of probable godparents, but she just shook her head, laughed, and said that no, she wasn't pregnant.

"That's good," George sighed. "Trust me, my twin's not ready for fatherhood. He's barely certifiable as an adult anyway. But when you do, I'm totally the godfather."

Emma sighed, thrilled that they weren't upset about the fact that they'd been keeping the marriage a secret. It would have been the type of thing Tien would have taken very personally, typically. But it was Emma, so Tien was a bit more lenient because they'd been loyal friends since they'd been sorted into Ravenclaw together. There was a loyalty so deep there that not even a Hufflepuff could compete with it.

It was something Emma hadn't really thought much about, though, pregnancy. She and Fred hadn't been exactly careless, but they hadn't been particularly careful, either. What if she did get pregnant? What would happen?

She would have a child and they would raise it, but what sort of a life would that child have during a war? After all, was it really responsible for Harry's parents to have him and then leave him orphaned?

But on the other hand, how could she let the Death Eaters and Voldemort dictate how she lived her life? Wasn't her - a Muggleborn witch - having a child with Fred - a pureblood - exactly the sort of thing that was against everything the Death Eaters stood for?

Emma got the sickening feeling that Lily Potter had had similar debates with herself before having Harry. Were they legitimate considerations, or was she trying to justify something to herself?

Needless to say, Emma realized that there were things she and Fred really needed to talk about.

That night after dinner she went straight to their room, sitting in the middle of their bed, clutching her legs to her chest and rubbing her arms nervously.

Fred came to join her moments later, a frown on his face as he closed the door behind himself.

"Are you all right, darling? You don't look so good. What's on your mind?"

Emma shrugged, patting the bed beside her. He sat down there, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Tien got me thinking," she whispered nervously. How was he going to take this? "What if I do get pregnant? What are we going to do? I mean... I mean this is a war and I... I..."

"Shh," Fred whispered soothingly, smoothing her hair gently. "Relax, love. Just relax. We'll be more careful if you want. If you do get pregnant we'll figure it out from there, right? But let's just plan on it not being a problem for now, all right?"

"Right," Emma whispered, wincing. "Right."

"It's going to be all right, sweetheart," he cooed. "I promise that no matter what happens we're going to make it through this just fine. All right?"

Emma nodded, leaning back into Fred's strong chest, which was always such a great comfort to her. In a way she'd gotten such a weight of her chest, telling their best friends about their marriage. Yes, the talk of children and pregnancy had caused a momentary panic, but Fred was right. All they could really do was be more careful and take care of if when if became the immediate future, and if it did.

So Emma curled up with Fred, her husband, and smiled at the thought of how wonderful it was that she could think of him that way, that he thought of her as his wife, and that they would never be separated, especially after years of denying themselves of that sort of happiness together.

She woke up on Saturday, rubbing her eyes and wondering where Fred was.

It was her day off work, so Fred had worked out with George, Tien, and Verity his own day off so that they could spend some time alone. He'd hinted at taking her out, but Emma never knew what that boy had up his sleeve.

Apparently, it was something that involved him being out of bed before she woke up. She stretched, sighed, and climbed out of bed, pulling on clothes and deciding that if she needed to shower she could do it after breakfast.

Emma walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes, and looking out where Fred was reading a letter.

"Everything all right?" she asked, sitting down at the table, resting her chin on her hands.

"Yeah, Harry's at the Burrow," he said. "Got there in the middle of the night, I guess. Mum wants us to visit at some point, but I figure we'll be at his birthday if nothing else. How are you this morning, love?"

"All right," she said with a shrug. "I was a bit confused when you weren't there when I woke up, but I guess you've been making breakfast?"

"Yeah, I made some fried eggs," he said, tipping a few onto a plate for her. "Are you feeling pretty hungry?"

"Yeah, I would say so," Emma said with a shrug. "How's that Ministry contract coming?"

"Which one?" he asked, tipping a couple more eggs onto her plate before turning to pour her some tea.

"The latest one," she said with a shrug.

The twins had done so well with their company that they were actually getting contracts from the Ministry to make defensive items, like Shield Charm Hats, and other things.

"Good," he said slowly. "I think we'll show them to Harry. He'll like it."

Emma had no doubt that he would. After all, he had not only been their original investor, but he'd been the one who had taught them all of the basic Defensive magic they had needed to get the contract. Not to mention he would be pleased that someone was making sure the Ministry was half-decently protecting themselves, even though there was no Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product that would protect someone completely from a Death Eater.

But every little bit counted, she told herself solidly.

Since she'd been issued some of those very products at work, she had to believe they would work well when needed.

"So, you said we were doing something today?" Emma asked, cutting her eggs carefully so as not to break the yoke.

"Yup," Fred said, popping the 'p' comically.

She smirked up at him.

"Going to tell me what it is?"

"Nope," he replied, in a similar popping fashion.

She giggled.

"At least will you tell me what I should dress like?"

Fred tilted his head as if considering.

"You know that blue dress with the lace?"

"Yeah," Emma said slowly.

"Wear that," he muttered, leaning over the table to kiss her.

Dutifully, Emma finished her eggs and showered quickly, pulling on the blue dress with the black lace trim that Fred had requested, meeting him at the door to the flat.

"You look beautiful," he sighed, kissing her lips tenderly. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," she said, taking his hand in hers. "Lead the way, darling."

Fred turned on his heel and Apparated them to a small village that Emma was fairly certain was near Ottery St. Catchpole.

She didn't mind that, of course. She rather liked the area, how quaint it all felt, how friendly the people had always been.

Emma had been to Ottery St. Catchpole a few times, visiting with the Weasleys and hanging out with the twins on various holidays, but there was something different about walking through a nearby village, not right next to his childhood home, and knowing that they were walking around as husband and wife that made it feel completely different.

"So where are you taking me?" she asked, squeezing his hand excitedly.

Fred grinned.

"Over there," he said, pointing at a friendly-looking little pub.

He led her inside, grinning like a fool still, but Emma couldn't help but notice that it was very nearly empty.

Muggles obviously didn't know what was going on, of course, but they did know that something very not-okay was going on, and apparently they weren't going out as much. She had seen it just from the London streets seeming eerily empty, but for some reason this hit her more forcefully, perhaps because it was an area she had always subconsciously assumed that nothing bad could touch. After all, who would want to hurt a bit of quaint countryside? And the Weasleys were there, with all their jovial wonderfulness. She smiled anyway as Fred ordered them fish and chips and ale.

"Do you think the war's going to get worse?" she asked softly as they waited for their food at a corner table, his hand in hers, his thumb stroking the side of her hand gently.

Fred didn't look at her, probably not wanting her to see the worry she knew was in his eyes as he said, "I think most things get worse before they get better."

She just nodded, watching their food make its way toward them in the hands of a tired, nervous-looking waitress who had to be about their age.

Maybe the girl would be dead within a month.

Maybe she would live for decades with exceptional health.

What Emma really didn't like was looking around and seeing the war and death everywhere she looked. They finished eating quicker than they might have otherwise, both of them a bit uneasy about the tone of the place they'd come to.

As soon as Fred finished his ale Emma whispered, "Can we go home now?"

Fred led her back out and walked her far enough out of the village to Apparate them back to the flat, where Fred kissed her forehead.

"It's going to be all right," Fred assured her. "Nothing's going to happen."

But it didn't sound like he believed the words, either.


	22. July 31

Two weeks later, Emma was carefully wrapping a present watching Fred stir out of the corner of her eye. He reached across the bed for her, but she wasn't there. He moaned disappointedly.

"I'm down here, darling," she said, trying not to laugh at the childlike way he was acting, like his favorite stuffed animal was missing.

Fred sat up slowly, blinking down at her.

"What are you doing?" he groaned.

"Wrapping our present for Harry," she sighed. "Somebody's got to, and I know how lazy you and George are about such things."

He smiled, rubbing his eyes.

"You can use a wand for that, you know," he teased.

"Habit," she said with a shrug. Then she held up the gold-wrapped package for inspection. "What do you think?"

He tilted his head as though considering it, although she knew he really didn't care.

"Beautiful," he gushed after a moment. "Perfect, love. Now get back in this bed right now because I'm aching to touch you."

Emma set the package down on top of their bedside table and then climbed into bed beside him, shivering as he ran his hands along her bare skin as soon as she came into reach.

"I love you," he sighed, pulling her closer and resting his forehead on hers as he rolled his body to be above her. "I love you so much."

It was remarkable how quickly her mind could go from what sort of wrapping paper Harry might like best to how badly she wanted Fred to touch her, but when he was pressing his weight on her like that, his fingertips exploring her legs and breasts...

Well, it was hard to think of anything else.

"Fred," she sighed, working her fingers into his hair as his lips began to explore her skin as they so loved to do.

It was like every other time they'd made love, but somehow all of those times were like new each time, and she finally collapsed with him in their bed panting, exhausted, and covered in their mixed sweat.

"Wow," he breathed, smiling up at her with a dazed sort of expression. "That was... wow. Why don't we do that more often?"

"Because if we did that more often neither of us would ever get any work done," she muttered.

She knew what he meant, though. Despite her logic she was wondering vaguely why they needed to get work done.

"We need to shower now," she sighed. "We're going to have to eat, and get some work done in the shop, and then go to your parent's place for dinner and the party. And then come back and pass out."

"No sex?" he whined.

She sighed.

"Maybe a quickie," she conceded. "But I'm going to be really tired."

"What if we do one now, one later?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"No."

"I'm sensing you're tired. Would you like me to carry you to the shower?"

"Did George already open the shop?"

He turned over to check his clock.

"Yup."

"Yes, please."

He chuckled slightly, scooping her up as she was and carrying her into the bathroom, setting her gingerly on her feet before turning on the water for her.

"I'll take one when you're done, love," he said kissing her quickly. "We've spent enough time up here. Someone's got to make breakfast so we can get to work."

Emma nodded, watching him walk out of the bathroom still stark naked before stepping into the warm stream of water Fred had started for her.

She ran her fingers through her hair, scrubbing absently, looking around for her shampoo. George had a completely un-adorable habit of hiding it in all kinds of weird places.

Thankfully, though, she found it right behind Fred's, pouring a bit onto her hand and working into her hair, lathering it as she closed her eyes, sighing and thinking about the prospect of dinner with Fred's family with Molly not knowing that she and Fred were married. She hoped it wouldn't be awkward, and certainly Arthur had assured her that there wouldn't be any problems, but Emma was a Weasley, whether or not many of the Weasleys knew it, and something about that thought made her incredibly anxious for this 'family' dinner.

Emma realized that this would be her first time seeing Molly since she had become her mother-in-law. That made it all seem all the more daunting, and Emma quickly rinsed her hair, washed up, and came out of the shower, turning off the water and drying off before sighing.

She could do this. It was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine.

Once she'd dried off, Emma walked back into their bedroom and pulled on a purple sundress that was sufficiently modest for dinner with Fred's family and working the cash register. She then put her hair up in a bun as gracefully and quickly as possible and swept a bit of lip gloss on. She could polish herself up a bit before going to the Burrow, but she didn't want to leave George, Tien, and Verity running the shop without help any longer than she had to.

That, and if she took too long, Fred would come in to see what was taking so long and then they would take another hour or two and she would need to take another shower and everything.

Speaking of showers, she heard the water turn on and she sighed with relief, knowing that Fred was showering and they would be downstairs soon.

Emma made up a quick letter wishing Harry a happy birthday from her and Fred and attached it to the parcel before calling to Fred that he'd better be hurrying up and getting out of the shower.

He was out and dressed in five minutes and they were downstairs to help out in the shop.

"You look beautiful," he whispered as they walked downstairs. "Make sure that the boys buying things keep their eyes to themselves."

"I'll do my best, dear," she teased.

Emma settled in behind the cash register, freeing Verity to move around the store and keep shelves fully stocked, which was part of her job.

It wasn't Emma's favorite way to spend the day, but Fred would come and visit her periodically, so it beat her actual job by quite a bit in that way. She went from ringing up order to order waiting for Fred to come around.

Whenever anyone old enough to be interested in her seriously came around to buy something, Fred would pretty much park behind her at the register, hands at her waist to exert his possession of her in a visual manifestation for the men.

Thankfully, there were just young people milling around the shop with their much older parents, thought to be, at least by Emma, much too old for her. Fred's jealous streak would be held off for at least a little while.

She took a quick count of what they'd earned already that day and smiled to herself, once again amazed that they'd managed to make so much so quickly. These boys really did know what they were doing, that was certain. She was proud of them, if nothing else.

"What are you grinning about?" said Tien's teasing voice as she made her way around the counter from the back room. "Good sex this morning?"

Emma felt herself blushing a bit, although not as brightly as she would have in school, if Tien had asked her such a thing previously.

"Every morning," Emma managed to say without choking on the words at all.

Yes, she'd come a long way since when she and Fred first started being together. Very far, indeed.

Tien just grinned.

"It seems Fred's practically insatiable. From the way George tells it you two practically go at it like dogs whenever you're in a room together."

This truly did make Emma blush furiously, and she glanced across the shop to where Fred was showing off some simple tricks to a few younger boys. He caught her gaze and smiled, winking at her.

That just made her blush even ore furiously, and Tien laughed.

"I figured that it was probably true, I just had thought that you'd gotten a bit better with your emotions," Tien said happily. "Have you sold any of the new Daydream Charms yet?"

"Not since I got here," Emma admitted, glad of the abrupt subject change.

So what if she knew that it was Tien's version of charity, handing a subject change over? Wasn't that what friends were for, awkward subject changes to spare embarrassment?

Tien might not have been good at it, but she made the effort and she meant well and that went a long way.

"So George says you're all going to see his family tonight," Tien said, grabbing one of the Daydream Charms off the shelf and scanning the box as if looking for something she had forgotten.

"Yes," Emma said softly. "Harry's staying with them. It's his birthday."

Tien nodded and went about her day, going back to the back room with the Daydream Charm.

Fred came over as soon as he was done with those boys, and he kissed her gently.

"Has Tien's behavior seemed a bit odd to you?" Fred whispered.

"Yes, actually," Emma said. "She's a bit obsessed with the Daydream Charm. Didn't say what it was going on."

He frowned slightly, looking over at where the Daydream Charms were on the shelf.

Then his face lightened slightly and he said, "Well, I suppose that she's got it well in hand. You know here. How have you been?"

"About the same as I was ten minutes ago when we started work," she teased. "Don't you have things you ought to be doing?"

The door opened and a group of boys she recognized as Ravenclaws from a few years ahead of them in school walked in, talking animatedly amongst themselves. Fred's face darkened.

"No, I think I'll stay up here," he said, a bit of a growl in the back of his voice.

She sighed, ready to tell him that it was fine, that they wouldn't even know her much less be interested in her, when one of them, a blonde at the head of the pack, blinked at her with recognition in his eyes.

"Emma Norwick?" he said, moving toward her. "Never thought I'd see a girl like you working in a place like this."

She bit her lip, trying not to look at Fred, who was seething that this boy thought he could talk to her.

"I don't work here," she explained. "I'm just helping out for a bit on my day off. I work at the Ministry."

"Ah, that sounds more like you," he boy said, teasingly. She couldn't think of what his name was, but she remembered he had been friendly with Roger Davies. "How've you been, then? I haven't seen you in forever."

"Ah, well, thanks," she said nervously, wondering if Fred was about to stab the boy or if it was her imagination being spiked by paranoia. "I don't know if you've met my boyfriend here, Fred Weasley."

"Weasley?" the boy said, smiling as he turned to hold his hand out to Fred, who took it after a moment's tense hesitation. "Owner of the shop?"

"Yes," Fred said tersely. "She's mine."

The boy laughed.

"Yes, I got that by the fact that she called you her boyfriend." The boy's blue eyes twinkled. "It was good seeing you again, Emma." Then he turned back to Fred, who was glaring at him still. "Congratulations, mate. Roger used to go on about this girl like she was the greatest thing ever. I'll have to tell him that she's been snapped up."

Emma blinked as the boy walked away, still unable to think of his name, wondering at what had just been said.

Roger. Roger Davies.

What?

"Ew," she finally said, and Fred jumped. "Roger Davies? That's bloody disgusting!"

Fred laughed and she squealed about how violated she felt, having to share a common room with the boy all those years and not knowing that he was watching her.

They left Tien and Verity to close up that night, Emma grabbing the gift before the three of them Disapparated to the point near the Burrow, walking up as though there was nothing strange about them being there for Harry's birthday.

In truth, when Molly had extended the invitation the twins were planning on declining it, working their usual hours, not wanting to miss out on some business, but Emma reminded them of their manners.

"He's your first and largest donor," she pointed out, "and he's a friend. And they're your family. You need to go and see them, if only for a little while."

So Emma put up her hair and grabbed the gift and they all went to the Burrow as they'd then promised they would do, and Emma straightened out her dress and...

"Damn," she muttered. "I forgot to grab a jacket."

"Here," Fred said softly, pulling off his own jacket and putting it around her shoulders. "I'm sure it will be warm in the house."

"I know," she sighed. "I was just hoping to look more modest than this."

"You look beautiful," George said with a knowing grin. "Mum's going to love you anyway. And you're a pleasant alternative to Fleur in her mind, so I'm sure she'd be happy to welcome you to the family-"

"George," Fred said in a low, warning tone.

"What, still not telling her?"

"George!" Emma whined anxiously.

"Fine," he said, still grinning. "I was teasing. Anyway, she's not going to care about the fact that you've not got a jacket. If anything you might get extra tea because you look cold. Modesty won't even enter into it."

Emma finally decided that it would be all right and the three of them went up to the door where Molly answered before Fred had even had a chance to knock with his raised hand.

"Oh, Emma, dear, you look lovely!" Molly said sweetly, hugging each of them. "And you two! Have you gotten taller?"

"No, Mum," Fred laughed. "Dinner's in the garden, then?"

"Yes, yes," Molly said happily. "Too many people for the kitchen. George, dear, could you carry the salad while you're here?"

"Sure, Mum," he said happily, taking the salad off her hands and leading the way out to the garden.

Emma sat down beside Bill, who was sitting next to a girl Emma recognized from the Triwizard Tournament as Fleur Delacour, Bill's fiancée.

"Hi, Emma," Bill said. "Fred, George. Emma, you've not met Fleur, have you?"

"No, we haven't met," Emma said, taking Fleur's outstretched hand and shaking it, since they couldn't kiss cheeks over Bill, Emma assumed. "I saw you in the Triwizard Tournament. You were quite good."

"Not good enough," Fleur said with a surprisingly gracious smile. "Bill tells me you are with Fred?"

"Yes," Fred said happily, taking Emma's hand and grinning at her. "She's mine."

Dinner started not long after and Emma had Fred put the gift for Harry with the other gifts. It was great to catch up with the Weasleys, and Emma couldn't help but notice the twinkle in Arthur's eye as he glanced over at Fred and Emma's clasped hands.

"Ron says you're working at the Ministry," Hermione said brightly. "What do you do?"

"I have Arthur's old job, actually," Emma said softly, blushing when she realized people were looking at her around the table. "It's an honor, really, having such an important job so young."

"What's Tien doing?" Ron asked eagerly.

"She's working at the shop," George said with a grin. "She's brilliant, that girl, but she doesn't tell us what she's up to half the time until she's finished with it, so we've had some fun explosions and things in the back room. She knows that as long as she cleans it up she can do whatever she likes, so it's really not a problem."

"I don't believe I've met this... Tien, was it?" Molly said nervously.

"Emma's best friend," Fred said, shrugging. "Tien Vo. She was a Ravenclaw. Brilliant, but a bit... oh, how would you describe her, Emma?"

Emma snorted.

"Socially incapable?" she suggested. "I don't know."

They continued with dinner as Molly decided that a Ravenclaw couldn't be so bad to have around the shop. Cake was brought out and then presents were opened and Emma held her breath as Harry got to the gift that she'd wrapped for him.

It was a box with several joke items Fred and George wanted to give him, with a bottle of cologne she'd swiped off Sirius (badly, because he knew she took it) when she'd been at Grimmauld Place over Christmas. She had enclosed a note explaining that she thought he'd like what was left.

What she hadn't told him was that she had gone out and gotten half a dozen more bottles of the stuff and spritzed it on things around the apartment whenever she thought she could get away with it. Fred didn't say anything about it because he knew it was one of her grief mechanisms, but she knew it drove George crazy.

Harry read the note as he was thanking Fred and George for the products. When he finished he looked up at Emma with surprise and thanks in his eyes.

As Emma and the twins were getting up to leave, Harry stopped her and pulled her aside.

"You... I..."

"I thought you might want something to remember him by," Emma said softly, trying not to tear up. "I mean, Dumbledore said you inherited his house, but I thought this might be something you would want. Sirius... Sirius was one of the nicest people I'd ever met and I don't remember feeling emptier than I felt when I found out what happened. I just... I want you to know you're not alone... in your grieving, you know."

"Right," Harry said. "Thanks."

They shared a sad, bittersweet smile and then nodded at each other as Emma put her hand in Fred's and she was Disapparated back to London.


	23. Showing the Shop

It was a couple of days later when Emma had her next day off, surprisingly, and it also happened to be the day the Weasleys with Hermione and Harry decided to come to Diagon Alley for school supplies and such, so they were going to come and see the shop for the first time. Emma had agreed to work in the shop that day to help out with things, especially because it was Tien's day off.

In hindsight, she was pretty sure that they'd given her the day off because their mother was coming around, but Emma didn't point it out.

"Emma, can you take some of these Daydream Charms and put them on the shelf, please?" George called. "I've got to stock up the Wonder Witch area."

Emma crinkled her nose, but tried not to let him see. She hated the idea of the Wonder Witch project, especially the love potions. Fred assured her that they were perfectly safe, but when she suggested that she test it out, take one for George, he didn't like the idea at all.

So obviously, they weren't safe because they weren't harmless, but he was only thinking in terms of medical side effects. Emma thought that was a bit narrow-minded of them, but they didn't interfere with her work so she only did as she was told when she was helping around the shop.

"George, did you put up the U-No-Poo sign?" Fred called out from the back. "I can't find it."

"It's out here, but I've not put it up!" George said. "Hey, Verity, can you put this sign up in the window?"

"Sure, Mr. Weasley!" Verity said brightly.

Emma shook her head.

That was one thing she was never going to be able to get used to, people calling Fred and George 'Mr. Weasley'. Still, as strange as it was to think about, they were professionals now, professionals who had made a very big name for themselves in the magical world. Between the government contracts they'd procured and the obscene amount of regular joke shop business they were doing on a daily basis, they were quickly becoming two of the richest people in wizarding Britain.

Emma blinked, putting up a few more boxes of the Daydream Charm to fill out the shelves.

Fred and George were rich, and not just that, but almost obscenely so. Fred was right, she really didn't need to work.

Of course, that didn't meant that she was going to change her mind about working, but she did feel a bit disconcerted about being the wife of such a wealthy man, especially when almost no one in the world knew that they were married. She shivered slightly, nearly dropping the last box, but she snatched it out of the air and put it on the shelf again.

"Right, anything else to do before we open?" she said, turning to find Fred leaning against the nearest shelf, grinning at her. "What?"

"You look so beautiful this morning," he sighed, moving in and kissing her nose lightly.

Emma raised her eyebrows, letting him then kiss her lips lightly. She didn't think she looked any different than normal, but he then began kissing her, forcefully, eagerly, and so hungrily that Verity actually squeaked with shock and dropped something as Fred pushed Emma back against the shelves and growled predatorily. Emma was a bit shocked as well, and George's laughter cut through her aroused fog and pulled Fred off her.

"Here, Fred, drink some of this," George insisted. "I thought I'd give you your request, Emma," he said with a wink.

Emma raised her eyebrows, still confused and a bit breathless.

"I gave him some of the love potion," George said with a shrug. "How do you feel, Freddie?"

Fred groaned, handing back the vial of antidote.

"Headache," he admitted. "But otherwise fine. Familiar headache. Is that the love potion? Why did I take the love potion?"

"George spiked your tea," Emma said, still a bit breathless. "You basically attacked me in front of poor Verity."

Fred blinked, looking around at Verity, who was a bit wide-eyed and horrified at what she had seen.

"Sorry about that," Fred said before turning and glaring murderously at his twin. "I'm not finished with you, George. We're going to have a little talk later, am I understood?"

George shrugged again.

"It was all worth it," he said firmly. "I regret nothing."

Emma rolled her eyes, moving around the register to get ready for the day and pulling her hair up into a quick bun to get it out of the way. She took a deep breath and nodded to indicate that she was ready to start the day. George looked at his watch for a long moment, then held up his wand and pointed it at the front door.

"Three, two, one."

He waved his wand in a small spiral motion and the door unlocked and the sign flipped to 'Open'. About half a dozen people who had been outside peering in the windows came pouring in, and Emma had to smile a bit. She had been outside on the Alley enough times to know that most of it was dead as could be, even Ollivander disappearing recently. Florian Fortescue had been taken away...

There was almost nothing left of what had once been one of the most vibrant, bustling places in the wizarding world. Now it was dead outside.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, thankfully, was the last beacon of activity and happiness left on the whole street. Books and robes and potions ingredients could still be purchased, but the only place for non-essential items still open was WWW, and Emma smiled proudly as young boys dragged their mothers into the shop with ruddy cheeks and excited faces. Emma could recognize the expressions on the mother's faces.

Why not take them somewhere that makes them happy, especially when happy was so hard to come by anymore, and when no one knew how long it would be until things were back to how they'd been.

It was a few hours before she saw the familiar faces of the Weasley clan coming through the door, which Harry and Hermione seemed as much a part of as Ginny and Ron in spite of their severe lack of red hair.

After all, her hair wasn't red, nor was Fleur's. Maybe, just maybe, they'd become Weasleys someday, too.

"Morning!" she said brightly, to Ginny first, who came bounding forward and grinning to greet her.

It was strange to look at Ginny, who had not so long ago been a gangly young child with legs clear up to her shoulders and a child's smile. Now she was a beautiful young woman with a figure (albeit and athletic one) and an almost seductive air about her. It was no wonder she'd been dating for a little while. Dean Thomas, it was, if Emma remembered correctly. He was attractive, but she wouldn't have ever picked him.

"Hey, Emma!" Ginny said happily. "I didn't know you weren't working today!"

"Yeah, I just found out last night," Emma said with a shrug. "I might still get called in if something comes up, but you know how it is in a war. There's everything at once or nothing for days."

"Is Tien here?" Ginny asked eagerly.

Emma had to admit to herself that the youngest Weasley had a bit of an unhealthy interest in Tien and her humor... She tried not to wince as she shook her head.

"No," she said firmly. "It's her day off, which is even more convenient since I've got today off, too. We're expecting a lot of people today."

It was already quite crowded by normal standards, especially in wartime, but it was nowhere near half what they usually got at WWW. But it was still early in the work day.

"Oh, Emma, dear!" Molly said happily. "It's so good to see you again! This place is quite... quite..."

She looked around as if dazed, not quite sure what to make of the great success her sons had made for themselves in the business world. After all, she had always been so hard on them about their pranking habits, and here they'd turned it into a wildly successful enterprise.

"I believe the word you're looking for is impressive," Emma said with a smile.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Molly admitted with a small nod.

It was nice for Molly to finally see the worth of her sons, even though they'd been trying to show it to her for years. Emma knew exactly how difficult that could be, her own parents really not able to comprehend magic and the things she would be able to do with it. Explaining to her mother that magic could get her a government job, a medical career, even something in sport... it seemed so incredible to them that they really couldn't even wrap their minds around it for several years. They'd had such high hopes for her that she knew they were relieved when she finally did get a job they could understand and appreciate.

Emma stood at the register like she was supposed to do and watched as the Weasleys went around, watched as Fred and George were having a talking to with Ginny about her love life, and dealing with Verity and the customers directly as Fred and George showed Harry the back and the things they were doing for the Ministry, and she got a moment to deal with Molly.

"So, you and Freddie are getting quite serious, then," Molly said softly as she watched Ginny and Hermione out of the corner of her eye.

Emma blinked, not wanting to think about what sort of things Molly was thinking she and Fred were doing in the flat.

"Yes, I suppose so," Emma replied, not wanting to lie. "It's hard because we're both working on day and we're exhausted when we get done for the day, but days off together are nice. We like to go out and do things in the Muggle world because it's a bit safer and he doesn't get recognized as much."

That was the strange bit, what a celebrity Fred had become with the shop. George as well, but that didn't affect her so much. She found herself becoming something of a public figure against her will, but it was worth it to be with Fred, she knew that.

Molly had begun asking about how they divided the chores when Emma noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione disappearing out the door, looking very much like they didn't want to be noticed. She made a split second decision that she wouldn't say anything. Harry didn't always know what he was doing, but it wasn't up to her to make that call.

"Ah, well, we all do a bit of this and that," Emma said kindly, trying not to look at the door and praying Molly didn't turn and start looking either. "George is pretty good about doing his share, at least, which is nice. I was a bit worried about that when I moved... Verity, dear, could you get a bit more love potions for the display? Sorry, Molly, Verity gets a bit distracted with all of the male customers. She's a good girl, but... well, they've had brighter people working for them. Tien for one."

"Yes, what is Tien like?" Molly said kindly.

"Oh," Emma said slowly, ringing up a customer with a smile as she thought. "Well, she's certainly a Ravenclaw. Very bright. She's... she's not the most social creature, you know. But she's a very good sort of observant. She knows all of the habits of just about every person she's ever met, and even some of the ones she hasn't. She's lovely, really, if she likes you. Well... you know how they can be, people who don't care too much about what people think."

"Yes, I've met a few," Molly said slowly. "Sirius for one..."

Emma tried not to frown at the mention of Sirius.

It still hurt, thinking of how he was gone and she had never had a chance to properly say goodbye. But she just couldn't continue this conversation, and she was given a great reprieve in Ginny saying, "Where are Harry, Ron, and Hermione?"

Emma looked over at Ginny, and Molly did as well, frowning for a moment, then looking around the shop.

"Harry?" Molly asked. "Ron? Hermione?"

But there was no answer.

Emma stood there for a moment debating whether she should tell Molly what she saw or not. After all, they weren't children anymore. They'd been fighting the war since before the war even existed, and had continued to fight it bravely when almost everyone refused to believe that it had begun again.

No, Emma decided that she would let them make their own decisions about what to do, that she should trust Harry's instincts when it came to the war. He might not always be right, and Sirius was gone in part because of that, but he was still more likely to be right than anyone she knew but Dumbledore himself.

"I thought I saw him just a moment ago," Emma said comfortingly. "I'm sure he's just somewhere in the store. It's a rather large place, you know."

Molly really was nervous, though, and she began to look around the shop. Emma knew she would have to have them turn up soon or find some way to distract Molly. And in a time of war, nothing but some drastic emergency could distract a mother from her charges long. Emma didn't have any good ideas, though, so she watched from the register, waiting and glancing every so often at the window, where she kept hoping every second that the trio would appear and come walking back into the shop.

"It's not that big of a deal," Emma said sheepishly. "I'm sure they're just around the back or something. I can find them for you if-"

She blinked, seeing the trio reappearing by the doorway. Emma froze, watching them blending back into the shop before she said, "Oh, Harry, there you are! Molly was looking for all of you!"

He looked up at her and she gave him a knowing look.

"We've been here," he said warily. "In the shop. We were just in the back recently."

Emma smiled slightly, glad that it worked out.

She said her goodbyes to the group and then went back to work, watching Fred most of the day, glad she had something to do on days off, especially because Fred never took a day off unless they were having a low week of sales. Maybe being a cashier wasn't her ideal pastime, but it was something, especially because she got to spend a whole day, essentially, with Fred.

"Emma, it's time to close up," George told her toward the end of the day. "Start counting the profits for the day."

"Yes, George," she said, opening the register and beginning to count as the last few purchases came in and Fred closed the door.

When she'd wrapped up for the day and put the money in the safe they kept things in before they gave pay out or bought supplies, she said goodnight to Verity and went up to the flat to make a quick dinner for the three of them.

"Long day," Fred sighed, putting dishes out on the table as she got the sausage frying. "It was nice to have them come in and see our work though, especially Harry."

"Yeah, he seemed impressed," George said proudly.

"That's good," Emma said, turning to get some ingredients for a salad. "I talked a bit with your mother today. She was a bit... iffy about us all living together. "

The twins sighed.

"We've told her time and time again that it's not a problem," Fred growled.

"She seems to think we're both defiling your honor on a regular basis," George teased.

Emma tensed.

It was exactly what she'd feared. Her mother-in-law was not approving of their living situation because she didn't know they were married. Perhaps if they were all living in the Burrow, it would be different, but because they were in a flat where Molly couldn't monitor them.

"You don't think she dislikes me, do you?" Emma asked nervously. "Do you think she's upset about the fact that she thinks we're not married? Do you think-?"

"Now stop that right there," George said firmly. "I happen to know for a fact, Emma, that Mum loves and adores you. You're the girly girl she always wanted with Ginny but didn't quite get. And you're far more tolerable than Fleur. Trust me, she's going to be so thrilled when she finds out you two are married. It'll probably be the happiest day of her life."

She smiled a bit at that without even thinking about it, turning back to make sure the sausages didn't burn. As she turned them over and turned back to making the salad Fred wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear, "I know you feel strange about keeping it from her, darling, but she loves you and it's not going to change how she looks at you, I promise. If we want any privacy at all we've got to be quiet about this for a short while, all right?"

Emma nodded in agreement. After all, she knew he was right. She wanted Molly to know, but there was no need to have another thing for Molly to worry about when there was already so much.

There would be time, plenty of time, later to talk about it all and patch things up, smooth them over. Until then, though, Emma had to be able to handle the secrecy because it was the kind thing to do.

"I love you," she sighed, kissing Fred promptly before putting the sausages on a plate and putting all the food on the table, sitting down with her Weasley twins for dinner.


	24. Umbridge Strikes

"September first," Fred muttered thoughtfully, watching Emma get ready for work. "Feel weird that we're not packing trunks last minute and rushing to the train?"

"A bit," Emma admitted.

Fred and George had decided to open the shop a bit later, knowing that most of their business during the school year would be mail-order and ministry contracts, and after the pre-school rush they'd had recently they really wanted to sleep in.

But Fred hadn't slept in. He'd woken up early and woke Emma up with kisses, making love to her before she had to leave for work at her usual time. She'd already taken a shower and now she was pulling on her work robes, trying not to smile at the way Fred was watching her body as she pulled the fabric over it, like a starving man being taunted with food he wasn't able to eat.

"It's sort of strange, not getting onto the train and looking for you so I can try to impress you with all of the fabulous stories of things George and I had done over the summer. It's like now that you're mine, the first of September means you going away from me for hours. I don't like it."

"I don't much like leaving you, either," Emma admitted, "but I have to. It's this thing called work."

"You don't have to work," Fred said softly, almost mournfully. Emma sighed.

"I know you don't want me to," she said. "Sometimes I don't want to either, but I need this job for my sanity. And I wouldn't be able to contribute fully to the war if I didn't have it and you know that."

"I'm worried," he admitted as she put her hair up in a quick bun. "I don't like the thought of you being somewhere that's going to be a target through the whole war."

Emma snorted.

"Fred, I married into the family most closely connected to Dumbledore and Harry Potter both. I was a target the moment we started dating and you know it. The fact that I work at the Ministry can't possibly put me in any more danger than I'm already in just for loving you."

She wasn't sure she fully believed it, but she had to make him believe it because he wasn't going to talk her out of doing her part for the Order. All her life she'd been the careful, studious Ravenclaw stereotype, but now she had a chance to test her limits and save lives.

Fred just frowned up at her, and she couldn't understand why her speech hadn't inspired him to let her be. Then he whispered, "We could put you in hiding, you know."

Ah, he didn't like the thought that their being together put her in danger. She also noticed that he didn't suggest they be apart exactly, just that she never leave whatever cage they put her in. She hadn't forgotten what that isolation had done to Sirius Black and she wasn't about to join him.

"George was supposed to make breakfast today?" Emma asked softly. "I'll be picking something up on the way, then. I'll see you this evening, all right?"

Fred didn't say anything, just got up and kissed her gently, running his fingers along the curve of her neck.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she replied. "And everything's going to be all right, isn't it?"

"Mmm-hmm," he murmured, kissing her again before she pulled away and left him standing alone in their bedroom as she went along her way to work.

"No breakfast?" George cried as she was leaving.

"No time!" Emma lied. "I'll pick something up on the way."

Before George had a chance to check his watch Emma barreled out onto the streets of Diagon Alley on the cool summer morning.

Diagon Alley certainly didn't feel like Diagon Alley anymore. It had been different ever since the events at the Ministry in the spring, deteriorating at an alarming rate as people disappeared and were attacked. Seedy was a decent word to describe it. Seedy and ominous. But Emma held her head high, refusing to allow herself to feel afraid of the phantoms in the corners of the street, the figments of her imagination.

She went through the Leaky Cauldron, greeting Tom the barman briefly as she went out through the front into Muggle London. The crisp air would have been hotter, probably, had the dementors not been wreaking havoc with the weather.

It was a bit more out of the way to her new coffee shop from the old one, but she didn't want to have the awkward thing of running into the boy who had started trying to ask her out. Even if Fred never found out about it, she felt a bit dirty.

"Breakfast bagel and tea," she said happily to the girl at the counter. "To go. I don't want to be late for work."

"I hate that," the girl said with a sympathetic grin. "My mum always forgets to set the alarm again once she gets up so I oversleep all the time. Don't worry, it'll be done in two shakes, you'll be stunned!"

Emma frowned as the girl turned, knowing the water for the tea would never get hot enough in time for her to get to work quickly without a bit of help. So she stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out her wand, waving it at the cup to warm up the water, just enough that it went a bit quicker.

The girl turned and looked at the cup to see that the water was already at a boil. She frowned.

"Wow, so fast it even stunned me," the girl muttered, putting the tea bag in and putting a lid on it. She slipped a bagel into a to-go back for Emma and handed her the drink and the food.

"There you go," she said happily. "Good luck at work and enjoy your day."

"Thanks, you too!" Emma said over her shoulder as she rushed out of the shop.

As soon as she found an alleyway to dart down she Disapparated to the worker's entrance to the Ministry and began drinking her tea as quickly as possible so that she had a hand free for getting into the atrium. She finished her tea just as she got to the front of the line she was in, Vanishing the cup since there was nowhere to throw it away. She made her way to the atrium and looked around for a moment, feeling that familiar sense of awe that she felt every time she stepped into the beautiful wooden space.

"Emma!"

It was the familiar, rumbling voice of Kingsley. She turned and smiled at him.

"Hello, Kingsley," she said. "I just arrived. Are you getting a lift?"

"Yes, let's share one," he said significantly, and Emma followed him over to the lifts, thanking him when he waited for her to get on first. Then he leaned in toward her and whispered, "Umbridge is back in the Ministry."

Emma's eyes widened.

They hadn't known what would happen to Dolores Umbridge once she recovered from the trauma of her time with the centaurs. The Order had discussed the possibility that she might end up in some small spot of the Ministry, some obscure corner where she couldn't do any harm. She certainly wouldn't be working with children ever again. Other than that, they hadn't really been sure. The fact that Kingsley had gone out of his way to mention it to Emma suggested that she would maybe end up overlapping with Emma's department, and this was the last thing she wanted. The year at Hogwarts had been more than enough Umbridge for a lifetime.

"Do you know where?" Emma hissed.

"Not yet, but the birdies are suggesting that Arthur will be reporting to her, so..."

"So I will too," Emma groaned. "All right, thanks. I'll keep my ears open."

"Are you going tomorrow night?"

"Can't, Fred and I got a pass. I'm giving my report to Arthur and we've got a date night," Emma said with a smile. "I heard Molly's making meatballs."

Kingsley nodded and smiled, but their conversation was cut short as a bloke from Magical Maintenance came into the lift the. A floor later Emma got out, said a polite goodbye to Kingsley, and walked along the familiar corridor to her office.

"Perkins?" she said, looking around.

Perkins should have been there, but he wasn't. There was a memo on her desk and she crossed quickly to pick it up.

Downsizing.

Her department had been downsized and she was now the only member. Despite the fact that it was already a difficult workload for one young person and one person who was just a hair shy of senile, Emma was suddenly all by herself in a very difficult position.

And she thought she had some idea why.

"Umbridge," she muttered to herself, getting straight to a stack of papers on her desk.

It really wasn't difficult to figure out. First it was half-breeds from Remus and Sirius's stories, and all manner of magical creatures. Then it was those fighting against Voldemort in spite of the Ministry's denial of his return. That had put Emma in enough of a tight spot as it was, what with her close connection with the Weasleys. That alone could have explained why Emma's life was being made more difficult.

But Emma was fairly certain that there was something going on beyond that. She was almost positive she knew what Umbridge's next target was going to be.

Muggleborns.

It really was the logical next step for a woman like Umbridge, and Emma was an ideal target for her wrath, as she had already made Emma a periphery target at the very least, for her connections to the Order. She had no way of knowing that Emma was actually in the Order. It was an out-of-character decision, Emma joining the fight, but she was already thrown in with the organization for being with Fred.

That, and the Minister wasn't likely to oppose any move that made Emma's life more difficult. He'd already made it perfectly clear that he didn't want her at the Ministry. Emma could feel herself being squeezed out, but she wasn't going to give in that easily. Pursing her lips thoughtfully, she grabbed a fresh inter-departmental memo to send to Arthur. She picked up her quill and scribbled a quick note to Arthur about wanting to meet for lunch. She couldn't, in good conscience, cancel her date with Fred to go to the meeting, but she had to be sure that someone was talking to the others about the recent situation. Maybe someone else would have good ideas on what to do about Umbridge.

With a brief pause, Emma added a note to go out into Muggle London for lunch, that she would pay, hoping that he understood that it was a conversation she didn't want to have in the Ministry cafeteria. Then she sent the memo off to Arthur and returned to the pile of work on her desk, praying that there wouldn't be too many inquiries that day. Her job seemed to be getting harder and harder as the war went on, but often she worked with other departments, so she could get a lot of help getting the heavy report load taken care of. Tonks was always more than happy to co-write a report.

Arthur wrote back not long after saying that he'd meet her in the atrium at their usual lunch time and she breathed a small sigh of relief, working through her stack of paperwork and anxiously awaiting lunch.

It was a bit strange, now that she knew that Arthur knew about her and Fred being married, to have lunch with him. She was taking her father-in-law out to lunch. Emma smiled a little to herself, thinking that if she couldn't have her parents around her during the war, maybe becoming a Weasley was the best thing she could have done. She would always have family nearby.

As soon as she was ready to take a lunch break she put her papers in order and made her way down to the atrium, rolling onto the balls of her feet and then down again while she stood alone in the lift, anxious. She walked across the atrium to where Arthur was reading the paper and tapped his shoulder. Arthur jumped and then smiled at her, putting the paper away and following her out into Muggle London.

"Have you spoken to Kingsley at all today?" Emma asked, leading him along the city streets to a nearby Italian place she thought he might like.

"I haven't had a chance," Arthur said, keeping pace with her easily. "I take it you did?"

Emma nodded.

"Umbridge is back in the Ministry, and it looks like she's going to be your boss now," Emma said, looking around. She didn't think they'd be followed, but one could never be too careful in these times. After all, Arthur was a known Order member. He might not be enemy number one to the Death Eaters, but they wouldn't be chastised for attacking him.

And she was Muggleborn.

"Ah, I knew something was different, but they hadn't given me any information yet," he sighed. "I take it we need to go over what I need to address at the meeting."

"Yes," Emma said slowly. "And I don't think it can wait. I think they're trying to squeeze me out of the Ministry. Actually, I think they're looking for an excuse to get rid of my department altogether."

Arthur looked like someone had just knocked the wind out of him and he followed Emma into the restaurant in stunned silence.

"Two, please," Emma told the hostess kindly, and the woman smiled, nodded, and grabbed two menus, leading them to a spot toward the middle of the cozy, clean place, setting the menus down on the crisp white table clothes, one at each setting, and informed her that the waiter would be coming by soon to see about their drinks. Emma thanked the woman and looked over at Arthur to make sure that he was all right before picking up the menu.

It was pretense, really. She'd been to the place often enough to know what she wanted. She just didn't want to make it look as though they were doing anything other than what normal people did on a work lunch break. After all, they were already dressed oddly. No need to draw any further attention to themselves.

"Perkins is gone," Emma said as casually as possible. "They're downsizing. That's what the memo said this morning. I'm sure I'm the next person to be fired."

Arthur fidgeted nervously, glancing over the menu and frowning as he did so, as though trying very hard to decide what to order. Emma knew he was fretting over the state of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department.

"I'll see if we can't figure out some way to handle this," Arthur said nervously.

"Hello," said a friendly voice. They looked up to see an attractive blond-haired, blue-eyed young man about Emma's age standing there. "My name is John and I'll be your waiter today. Anything to start off with? Drinks?"

"Yes, I'll have water, thank you," Arthur said.

"Tea for me, just black," Emma said, watching John scribble on his notepad. "And could we have some breadsticks?"

"Certainly," John said with a smile. "I'll be right back."

John went away and Emma set down the menu and began tapping her fingers thoughtfully on the pristine white-clothed table.

"So other than work becoming a living hell," Emma said with a smile, "how are things for you? I feel like I never see you out of the Ministry."

Arthur smiled a little.

"Well, you know, I do work quite a lot. I think I'm getting more hours with this new job. Molly's so pleased."

Emma didn't mention that she thought Molly was a bit more pleased about the pay raise. She didn't think it was the sort of thing one should say to one's father-in-law.

"Speaking of Molly," Arthur said softly, "when do you and Fred think you'll be telling people that you're actually married?"

She shrugged, looking around to see if their waiter was bringing the drinks yet.

"At least not until after Bill and Fleur are married," she said slowly. "Because Molly will make us do a ceremony anyway and we don't want to put her under too much strain. We've talked about waiting until the war's done, but that will depend on how long it goes."

"I understand," Arthur said with a knowing nod. "Yes, Molly's ready to tear out her hair with this business with Fleur."

John came back and set down their drinks and a small basket of breadsticks.

"Are we ready to order?" he said happily.

"Ah, yes," Emma said with a smile. "Could we get two pappardelle al ragu di angello?"

"Absolutely," John replied, scribbling happily before picking up their menus. "I'll take that order right back to the kitchens!"

She watched him go. Arthur frowned slightly.

"What is that, exactly?" he asked. "What you ordered."

"Pasta with lamb and tomato," Emma said, tapping the table once more. "It's a specialty of this chef. Delicious."

"Ah, it sounds lovely," Arthur said uncertainly.

Emma didn't worry about whether or not Arthur would like the food. She was sure that he would. Besides, she had enough other things to worry about in her life without stopping to concern herself with things that didn't really matter.

"It's nice to get away from the office," Emma said gently. "After all, we seem to spend half our lives there."

Arthur nodded.

"You have a good set-up, though," he pointed out. "If you lose your job at the Ministry, you could easily work with the twins. Or not work at all. But some of us... We don't have that luxury."

And Emma nodded, wishing silently that they never had to deal with that eventuality.


	25. Okay Again

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to reader **_**princessyuki08**_**, a new reader who has just begun to follow this story. Thanks for joining the ride, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

** -C**

At the Order meeting the following week, Emma was helping Molly clean up the table at Grimmauld Place and prepare the finishing touches for dinner after the meeting as the various Order members came filing in.

"Molly," Kingsley rumbled. "Emma. I hope you're both well."

"Fine, thank you," Molly said, a bit forced.

"As well as can be expected in times like these," Emma admitted softly, smiling tightly at Kingsley. "How are you?"

"Well enough," Kingsley sighed. "Ah, Tonks!"

Tonks walked in looking sullen and Emma saw Remus walking in right after her looking a bit hurt as well and Emma knew that there must have been an exchange in the hallway that she'd missed. She frowned slightly, wondering if she should say something to Tonks or to Remus or just leave it be and she decided it would be better to leave it be for the present. They were much older than her and Emma had no doubt that Molly and Arthur were already working on putting the couple back into shape.

At any rate, she needed to focus on the meeting, and the members had begun filing in more rapidly, Mad-Eye and Dumbledore being the last to enter, as always.

"I have some very grave news to start out with," Dumbledore said softly. "Stan Shunpike, conductor of the Knight Bus, has been arrested."

There was muttering and looking around in confusion.

"What for?" George finally asked.

"Apparently being a Death Eater," Mad-Eye growled.

Emma snorted before she could stop herself and she felt both of Mad-Eye's eyes turned on her. It was an unnerving sensation, to say the least.

"I-I'm sorry," she said softly. "Um, it's just that I knew him. Or rather, I'd met him. The idea of Stan Shunpike being a Death Eater is a bit ridiculous."

"So was the idea of Peter Pettigrew," Remus said softly, and Emma nodded, looking down at her hands.

Dumbledore shook his head.

"That is true, but I believe Emma is quite right about Mr. Shunpike. I know quite a bit about his arrest myself and it is very plain that Scrimgeour is determined to make it appear that the Ministry is doing something, making the world a safer place."

There were a few spurts of short, dark laughter at this notion. Even with Fudge out of the picture, the Ministry as a whole was little better than inept and bumbling. Not even the hardline, experienced Scrimgeour could inspire confidence in people or organize any sort of independent action in the face of Voldemort's return and the revival of the dark ages of Death Eaters.

"What do we do?" Molly asked softly.

"For Stan?" Albus said slowly. "I'm afraid there isn't anything we can do for him. But we must keep him in mind, because I do not believe this is the last we will hear of him."

Emma nodded and listened carefully and quietly to the rest of the meeting, but there wasn't much pertaining to her. She did, after all, report to Arthur regularly enough, and she worked with the Aurors more and more every day, so she often shared information with Tonks and Kingsley.

"Emma," Albus said after a moment, catching her by surprise. "Have you heard any more from or about Dolores Umbridge?"

"No," Emma admitted, shifting uncomfortably under the attention of the room again. "I have my theories as to what she's after, though, and I think we need to be especially careful about her."

There were nods around the room. She cleared her throat and continued, a bit more confidently.

"I believe her next target, unfortunately, is Muggle-borns. She's already taken much issue with part-humans, werewolves, vampires, et cetera. It's not too much of a jump from that to pureblood mania, and I've been doing a bit of research into both magical and Muggle history, and this is a very common path for sociopathic and psychopathic people when given power. She can raise herself up by putting down others. Really, it's the same path Voldemort himself follows, although I suspect he skipped a couple of steps."

There was a tense sort of silence in the room, but there it was brief before there were nods and murmurs of agreement. She could see Arthur whispering something to Kingsley, probably wondering what she was referring to in Muggle history.

"Very good, Emma," Albus whispered. "Kingsley, do you know how we might track her movement and actions within the Ministry?"

"I would say Tonks, as I'm often out of the office," Kingsley said slowly, "but I don't think that in this case it would be particularly prudent..."

"No," Tonks whispered sullenly. "No, you're right."

Emma tried not to stare at Tonks as it was agreed that Kingsley went on to say that he and Emma would be able to jointly keep track of Umbridge (which Emma absently agreed with). The strangest thing was that all Emma could think to compare Tonks with was a wrung out dishtowel. It was sad, pathetic, and a bit damp.

Remus, Emma noted, was carefully not looking at Tonks, and perhaps it was in Emma's head, but this very fact seemed to wilt Tonks even more. It wasn't until Fred's hand enclosed around Emma's that she finally realized that the meeting was coming to a close.

Dinner was the usual, delicious affair that it always was when Molly cooked, and then Emma had a very little time to say her sleepy goodbyes before Fred led her back to their flat, kissing her sweetly and helping her tired self change into her pajamas, tucking her into bed and changing himself before crawling in beside her, wrapping his warm arms around her.

"I love you," he whispered sweetly.

"I love you too," Emma answered truthfully, and as she fell into a deep sleep her brain wondered what Tonks was doing at just that very moment.

The following morning, Fred made breakfast. This was very good of him, as it had been Emma's turn to make breakfast, and if she had been fully awake or aware at the time she might have begun to wonder with maybe a hint of suspicion why he had gone out of his way to take her turn. Had he done something? Did he want something? Was he expecting some sort of favor in return? It surely wasn't her birthday or anything like that.

When she was awake enough, she gave him a curious look.

"You don't remember, do you?" he said with a cheeky sort of smile.

Oh, no.

Whatever it was, it was something she was supposed to remember. What was she forgetting? How could she forget something that Fred was going to remember? Her heart pounded wildly as she went through the possibilities, still coming up blank.

"Relax, love," he said with a chuckle. "It's our first kiss. Not a big holiday or anything like that. Just something I wanted to commemorate in a small way, since we don't spend nearly enough time together. I wanted to keep us in touch."

Emma couldn't help but smile a little at how sweet and adorable the notion was, although she held herself partially responsible for their drifting apart. She crawled into his lap as he finished his tea and nuzzled her face into his neck.

At that very moment, George walked out of his room and made a gagging sound.

"You've got a room for that sort of thing, you know," he teased. "What's for breakfast? I'm starving."

"Leave us alone," Fred whined, running his fingers soothingly through Emma's hair. "We're having a moment and you're ruining it, as always."

"Isn't that what twins are for?" George asked, as though confused, but Emma was sure that if she looked up at him she would see a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"You know, if we were at school it'd be Quidditch tryouts again," George said thoughtfully as he munched on his toast, spraying bits of crisp bread across the table as he did so. "It's really starting to hit me that we're never going back."

George was right, it was strange to think of life without the routines of Hogwarts, Quidditch, and the like. But they'd settled into life outside it so smoothly, so easily, that it was as if the strangeness was all in their minds.

"Maybe we should do something in honor of Quidditch trials," Emma said softly, still hugging Fred's neck. "Do you think Ginny and Ron will be playing again?"

"I'm sure they will, unless Ron's nerves get the better of him," Fred sighed. "I suppose I ought to take some responsibility for that."

It was true, Ron was a bit of a mess when it came to impressing people and the nerves of what people might think of him should he do something poorly. It wasn't entirely Fred's fault, of course. Having five successful older brothers, albeit in a variety of ways, will do that to a boy. On the other hand, Fred had gone out of his way to pick on Ron. Ron was, after all, such a very easy target, and since Ginny was a virtually impossible target, being made of very strong stuff and obviously destined to turn out like her mother, Ron was really the only option other than Percy. And after a while, teasing Percy was no longer fun, because he was smart enough, even as a child, that he could see through most things that didn't involve his pride.

Ron's fear of spiders, for example, was entirely down to Fred. As much as Emma loved him and adored George as one of her best friends, she knew that the boys had a tendency toward the cruel sometimes, especially where their brothers were concerned. Emma had never really minded it, though, as her only close friend in her own house was perhaps one of the cruelest people who hadn't been sorted into Slytherin of all time.

"Let's not bother with that," George said, realizing that they were quickly venturing to "downer territory", as he often called it. "C'mon, let's think of something fun to do."

The trio spent the rest of their day playing games from their childhood, reminiscing about various events in their school years.

"Remember when Katie blew her eyebrows of in Exploding Snap?"

"Remember when Lee swore so loudly at lunch that McGonagall gave him detention?"

"Remember when Tien levitated Professor Flitwick in Charms and tried to pass it off as an accident?"

"No, Emma, none of us remember that because we weren't there," George had retorted, and Emma blushed, but Fred insisted that he recalled hearing about it after the fact.

They drank butterbeer, even though they had a cupboard full of firewhiskey, and ate chocolate frogs as they set up a board for wizard's chess.

"Twins against Ravenclaw, it's only fair," George pointed out.

"No, it's not," Emma replied dully.

"What about boys against girls?" he tried again.

"George, stop being so mean," Fred sighed. "Why don't you play against Emma and I'll make sure neither of you cheat."

"I'm not playing her alone, she always beats me!"

"Well, then, I'll play against Emma and you can make dinner."

"But I want to play," George whined.

They gave up on trying to work out chess and played Gobstones instead, while Emma ordered in from the Leaky Cauldron, which had begun such a service for residents of Diagon Alley since the war had been officially announced, making people ever more anxious about going out of doors.

When they climbed into bed that night, Fred whispered, "Sorry about George. I would have liked to have spent the day to ourselves, but-"

"It's fine," Emma sighed honestly. "It was nice to be children again, even for a little while, don't you think?"

Fred nodded his agreement and the curled up, falling asleep.

It was mid-October before anything that could be classified as interesting or out-of-the-ordinary occurred in their lives again, as even the routines of war had become so routine as to not merit mention. But on a cold October afternoon, Tonks came to visit Emma in her office with someone Emma had never met before.

"This is Healer Stilgoe," Tonks said by way of greeting. "We've got something we'd like to discuss with you, something we've got a report about from Albus at Hogwarts that merits your attention."

Emma wanted to ask if her attention was merited because it was, or because someone had ordered her attention to be merited, but she refrained.

"What is it?" Emma asked, picking up her quill in case she had to take notes.

"Do you remember Katie Bell?" Tonks asked gently, perhaps guessing that Emma had been good friends with Katie.

"Of course," Emma said slowly. "We went to school together. I…. We…. What's happened?"

"Miss Bell has been cursed in a suspicious, round-about manner," Healer Stilgoe said, alerting Emma at once that Stilgoe was a stuffy sort of man, even if he had the look of a Muggle film heartthrob in the prime of his life.

"Is she all right?" Emma asked quickly, dropping her quill altogether. She had no fear of forgetting a word of this meeting.

"She will likely recover," Stilgoe said in the manner of discussing the removal of a bunion. "She is lucky to have only brushed the object with the tiniest patch of skin possible, and Severus Snape was able to mitigate many possible reactions very quickly, so now it's just rest and regular care and if she continues to respond as she has, she will make a full recovery with time."

"Object," Emma repeated, realizing this was why she had been called into the case. "What sort of object?"

"A cursed necklace," Tonks said with a sigh. "According to Albus, it was probably purchased at Borgin and Burkes by some unknown entity." From the way Tonks said it and from Emma's own thoughts, it was likely that Albus knew exactly who had purchased it, but was being silent on the matter for reasons of his own. "Extremely powerful. I checked into it, and apparently it's killed several Muggle owners. I was guessing you had the case files?"

"Probably," Emma replied, frowning at the large filing cabinet behind her. "I suppose you want me to find them for your report?"

"Yes," Tonks said apologetically, looking over at the cabinet herself. "When you can get it to me soonest. And I'll keep you updated on the news I get on Katie's condition, all right?"

It was a bargain, of course, for getting the work done faster, but Emma would have done it quickly anyway. If it could help Katie's recovery go quicker in any way, it was the top of Emma's lengthy priority list.

"I think that's all I'm needed for here," Stilgoe said slowly, "but if you should require further information on the curse or-"

"I'll contact you, yes," Emma said as politely as she could, wishing the man would just leave so she could talk with Tonks more freely.

Stilgoe then bowed his way out of the office and Tonks turned to Emma.

"I know you won't get anything out of him, but I need you to lean on Borgin for information on the buyer," Tonks said. "You know, for appearance's sake."

"Of course," Emma sighed, having already dealt with Borgin and Burkes on several occasions and being fully aware that there would be some sort of 'gap' in the record and the information would be 'impossible' to retrieve. How the business managed to stay open even with all the force of the Ministry working to investigate it, was a mystery to Emma, but perhaps the rest of the Ministry wasn't trying as hard as she was.

"Do you need anything else from me?" Tonks asked in the manner of someone returning favors, but Emma knew there were secrets she couldn't say out loud loaded into the question, things they'd discussed in Grimmauld Place.

"Not that I can think of," Emma said slowly. She was afraid she would forget something important, especially now that Katie's well-being was blocking her from thinking things through rationally, systematically, as she usually did at work. "I…. No, you already gave me that. No, I think that you can leave it at that for now and I'll look for those files. I'll let you know if I remember something. You can understand that I'm a bit flustered at the moment."

Tonks nodded sympathetically. Then, softly, she said, "He's not written me in weeks."

Emma gave a sympathetic look of her own, touched Tonks's hand gently and said, "I'm sure it will all work out all right in the end."

"Will it?" Tonks asked with a sad smile, but Emma didn't have an answer ready and she just stared for a moment at the older woman until Tonks said a brief goodbye and walked back out of the office, leaving Emma staring after her at the door.

Would it all work out in the end?

Emma had been working in the war effort with that dream in mind, but what if it wasn't possible? What if she was holding on to something false?

What if it didn't work out all right in the end?

Emma shivered a little as she thought about what that might mean, what would happen if everything worked out wrong for her, or worse, for the wizarding world. Could things be all right if Fred wasn't there? Would things ever be all right for Tonks if something happened to Remus, with or without the closure of knowing he loved her?

War would inevitably take people from them. It had already with Sirius, and continued to take more every day. The question became who would it take, and how, and when? And could things be okay again when all was said and done?


	26. In Search of Truth

By Monday morning, Emma had found the files and was making her way through the Ministry to get them to Tonks, not really trusting that things she sent via interdepartmental memos and such would make it untampered with.

"Hey," she said, noting that Tonks looked even less perky than she usually did. Perhaps it was all the extra shifts she was doing at Hogsmeade. "I found those files you wanted."

"Thanks," Tonks said hollowly. "Go ahead and put them here," she said, motioning to a small stack that seemed to all be about Katie's case. Emma did as she was told.

"Do you know how she is?" Emma asked softly, doing her very best not to look down at the papers she knew weren't meant for her eyes.

"Unchanged," Tonks intoned, signing a sheet of parchment in front of her and putting it at the bottom of a stack, shoving them off to one part of her desk. "But stable, from what Stilgoe says. I'm not sure how much I trust Stilgoe's judgment, but there you are."

"I'm going to see Borgin today," Emma blurted out. "I figure if I catch him unawares maybe he won't have a chance to hide things from me."

Tonks nodded as if there were some merit in this plan, but Emma knew that it was absurd. The likelihood that Borgin hadn't tampered with his records as soon as such an item was bought, knowing exactly what the item would be used for, was virtually impossible.

Still, it was her job.

"I'd ask you to give him a kick from me, but I suppose that's not very professional, is it?" Tonks said, and if she'd been a bit more cheerful about it, Emma would have been able to convince herself that the old Tonks had made a brief return. But it had sounded as dead as Tonks looked.

Emma took her leave of her pathetic friend and went back to make sure she'd closed up everything she ought to in her office before heading out to London.

"Oh, Miss Norwick," said a sickeningly sweet voice behind her. There were two reasons Emma almost didn't turn around, one being that she knew who it was and didn't want to face her, and the other because no one had referred to her by her former surname since she'd last seen the Minister.

"Madam Umbridge," Emma said as respectfully as possible, although she wanted to gouge the woman's eyes out.

"I hope you're not trying to skip out of work early, Miss Norwick," Umbridge said with a small giggle.

"Not at all," Emma said with a forced smile. "I'm going on an inquiry on behalf of the Auror office. They wanted me to check in on a purchase at Borgin and Burkes. It seems I spend half my time in that shop these days."

"Indeed," Umbridge said patronizingly, and Emma knew, even as the woman went off down a corridor, that she would be checking up on Emma's claim, but she didn't have time to dwell on it if she wanted to get home for dinner.

She Disapparated straight into Diagon Alley, following the familiar pathways, but turning to Knocturnally, which was still vastly an unknown to Emma, as she only ever went there for work. She hoped she never had any need to go there for another reason.

It was a blessing that Borgin and Burkes were located so near to the front of the Alley, likely so that the more 'respectable' clients didn't have to delve too deeply into the filth, but rather pop in and out discretely.

She opened the door and Borgin came at once from the back of the shop with his oiliest manner, and Emma noted that his face fell slightly when he realized that it was just her.

"Miss Norwick, here on official business once more, I presume?"

Emma nodded, moving up toward the front of the shop.

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Borgin," she said in her most professional tone. It was difficult to be commanding with someone so much older than herself, and to be kind when she wanted to strangle the man. But she had to do both, so she did her very best. "I trust there won't be any problems?"

"Never, Miss Norwick," he said smoothly, or rather, slickly. "What seems to be the trouble, now?"

"There was necklace," Emma said, reading out for him the description of both necklace and curse. He nodded understandingly as she read. "Somehow, it found its way into the hands of an unsuspecting girl who is now, luckily, stable and in the hospital."

"How fortunate for her," he muttered.

"Yes," Emma replied, perhaps a bit colder than she should have. "The necklace in question has also been on file as being responsible for multiple Muggle deaths throughout the years, and has been rumored to have come from your establishment."

She talked round and round with Borgin for what felt like forever as she tried very hard not to lose her patience with the man. He showed her his logbook, and certainly there was no record of such a necklace ever having been in the store, much less sold to anyone in the recent past.

But that didn't mean it hadn't been there, in fact, she was going to be paying a visit to Hogwarts to see this necklace very soon, and she expected to recognize it as one that she had previously seen on display in that very shop, in spite of their lack of records stating such.

However, there wasn't much she could do about it at the moment, and she was tired of having her time wasted with the run-around.

"Thank you, Mr. Borgin," she said professionally, although she didn't have anything to thank him for at all. "You have been most helpful." More lies.

"I only wish I could have been of better service, Miss Norwick," Borgin lied, and they parted ways, both obviously itching to be rid of the other.

Fred realized that she was upset the moment she got home, so he didn't pester her about anything right away and hurried to make dinner while she locked herself up in their room and began to cry.

Katie had always, always been there for Emma. What if she failed? What if Katie died? What if she never fully recovered and there was something Emma could have done and she failed?

It would fell like Sirius dying all over again, except perhaps worse because she and Katie had been such close friends for as long as Emma could really remember without straining her memory too much.

After about half an hour of sobbing into her pillow, Emma decided that it was time to explain to the twins what had happened, or there would be no understanding for them. With a sigh, she straightened her hair and clothes, dried her eyes and pillow, and took a deep, determined sigh before unlocking the door and heading out to the kitchen, where the boys were setting out some shepherd's pie with concerned expressions.

"Hi, darling," Fred said softly as she sat down beside George at their table. "Are you…. Are you feeling any better?"

Emma sighed heavily, deciding to tell them the truth.

"No," she admitted. "No, I'm not any better. I… I'm sure you know about Katie?"

"We heard," George said darkly. "I think half the wizarding world has heard by now. I actually visited her in the hospital today. She's in a bad way."

Emma shivered, barely acknowledging when George put a hand comfortingly on her arm.

"I had to visit Borgin and Burkes' today," she said softly, sticking a fork in her hot pie, frowning at the steam rising off slightly. "I had to try to track down the trail of the necklace that she touched."

"And did you have any luck?" Fred asked eagerly.

"Of course I didn't," she groaned. "There's no luck to be had with Borgin! He doctors his books so well that if everything he ever sold was used in a crime it would look like he'd never sold a thing in his life and somehow stayed in business! It's absurd!"

She was so frustrated, so worked up, that she hadn't even noticed that she'd been stabbing her pie with her fork viciously until Fred put a comforting hand on hers to stop the motion.

"But you know he had the necklace?" he asked soothingly, knowing that she was about ready to stick her fork in anything that blinked at her wrong, even his eye if that's what it was. She rarely got so angry, but she was dangerous when so provoked.

"I'm very nearly positive," she said, admitting subtly that she really couldn't be completely sure, even though she was as close as one could get without real proof. "I know I saw the necklace in his shop. I know I did!"

"Well, we'll just have to find a way to prove it, that's all," Fred said gently. "Don't worry, love. We'll figure it out together."

They continued to eat dinner and Fred and George lifted her spirits with tales from the joke shop, some so fresh she was sure they'd happened earlier that day, others she'd heard a time or two before but said nothing because she knew they were trying so very hard to cheer her up. It did work a bit, and by the time George was scooping ice cream for dessert, Emma was curled up onto Fred's lap on the sofa, even smiling a little as he told her about George's reaction to the WonderWitch product testing for the third time since the occurrence itself.

"And then his face went so orange I thought it was going to start growing a tree out his head!" Fred recited proudly.

George snorted derisively at the joke they both new was bad, but nobody commented on just how awful it was as he passed ice cream around and sat down next to them on the sofa.

"You know what I reckon?" George asked. "I reckon this whole war thing will be over as soon as Harry graduates and has time to track down Voldy and not a minute before."

Emma shivered.

"Don't say that," she moaned.

"Why not?" George asked, confused.

"Because he's still got another year and a half to go at least," she said softly. "I can't bear the thought that the war could last that long. Can you imagine… can you image how many people would die?"

She knew that thinking of it only as a possibility and not a reality, as Fred and George obviously did, she was fooling herself. The odds of the war being over with any speed were so slim that it was like asking Father Christmas to bring her presents twice a year and expecting Christmas in July.

Fred and George and Emma finished their ice cream in silence for the first time, each staring at their bowl and its contents, the silence punctuated by the sounds of spoons clinking bowls. Emma had never really appreciated before how expensive and high quality their bowls were before, but for some reason it seemed the appropriate time to admire them in silence. When they'd finished, George quickly washed the dishes and put them away while Fred led Emma off to their room to sleep.

Or at least, she thought they would be sleeping.

Of course, they did sleep eventually, but it was a long time coming. Fred told her to relax, stripped off her clothes, and made certain that they put a strong silencing charm on the door before bringing her to several screaming climaxes, after which she collapsed sweetly in his arms.

"What was that for?" she sighed, nuzzling her face into his neck gently.

"That was for being the best wife a man could ask for," he whispered. "I love you, Emma, and no matter what happens with this necklace, you know Katie wouldn't want you to upset yourself over it."

She nodded vaguely, knowing he was right and falling asleep very soon after, still wrapped up in his arms.

The following day Emma woke up early, sent a note to Arthur in the office that she would be visiting Hogwarts at the beginning of her shift and wouldn't be in to work until she was finished there, on Ministry business. She knew he would keep her out of trouble to the best of his ability, and despite what people said of the man, he was certainly very good at keeping her out of trouble, at the very least.

She sent a Patronus up to the castle to announce her arrival at the gates and waited as patiently as possible for someone to let her in.

Someone, ironically, happened to be Professor Snape, who looked down at her with a particularly somber expression. Suddenly Emma had the feeling that she'd missed his class or something.

"Miss Norwick," he said in a way that almost suggested he knew she'd legally changed her name. "Ministry business, Albus tells me."

"Yes, Professor," she spat out almost automatically. "I'm here to get a look at the necklace Katie Bell touched."

Snape narrowed his eyes slightly and then he said, "So the Ministry thinks that a girl who knows Dark Arts only from school books will have better knowledge of such an artifact than myself?"

Emma blinked with surprise, not thinking that he would take such offense to her coming to look at the necklace. In hindsight she supposed it was reasonable.

"No, no, sir," she said as quickly as she could manage. "Nothing like that. I just need a report on the Muggle nature of the artifact. To be honest, sir, the very fact that I'm involved in the investigation is a bit…. Well, it's more than a bit silly."

He sneered at her in a way she supposed she could at least tell herself was a sort of smile, for Snape at least, and he led her up to the castle, to his office, where the necklace was being kept in a warded case until, he said, he had Ministry permission to destroy it completely. That wouldn't come until Katie was healed.

"Take a look, but don't touch," he said firmly.

As if she would be so stupid.

"Yes, sir," she said, though, not wanting to lose whatever goodwill she might have earned with this man.

Emma drew her wand and could almost instantly sense the evil pulsating from the necklace. She nearly dropped her wand, but Snape grabbed her hand and firmly closed it around the wood.

"Good, you can feel it," he said, like a teacher in the middle of the lesson.

"What… what _is_ that?" she gasped, horrified at the sensation moving from her wand to her hand.

"That is the connection between your wand and yourself recognizing the Dark magic in this necklace," he said smoothly. "It takes an incredibly old and powerful spell for a wand to react so firmly, and a very good wand to owner connection to feel it enough to realize that it's even real."

He removed his hand from hers and Emma was no longer so shocked about the sensation and she whispered, "This must be very evil."

"Indeed," Snape's voice said in that same smooth baritone. "If you have yet to determine more than that, I doubt your report will be of much use."

"I'm inclined to agree with you," Emma admitted. "Still, the report has been ordered and so it shall be given. Really I'm trying to determine whether this necklace had been purchased by the perpetrator at Borgin and Burke's."

He stiffened slightly, quickly locking the necklace back behind the case with one swift movement of his wand, setting the wards up again with another.

"I'm sorry," she said slowly. "Did I say something-?"

"I assure you, Miss Norwick," Snape said firmly, authoritatively, "that this necklace has not been on the shelves of Borgin and Burke's in your lifetime."

She blinked.

She could have sworn that she'd seen it there. Perhaps it had been there only briefly?

"And you know this because…?"

"Because, Miss Norwick, as part of my duties for the Order, I've spent a fair amount of time in that shop," he said sharply, "and I know its contents as well as the owners or better. It has never been there."

For a split second she wanted to accuse him of lying to her, but she had no proof and his word on the matter was much stronger than hers. More than that, she felt very wrong about the idea of accusing him of anything, as he was still, in her mind, a professor. Although, admittedly, he was no longer her professor and thus had no real power over her.

She could have been wrong, of course. She'd been wrong about plenty of things before, and she'd certainly not spent too much time in that awful shop. She always was in and out as quickly as she could manage.

"I'm sorry," Emma said softly. "I'm sorry for wasting your time, then, professor. I assure you I won't come asking after it again. I'm afraid I'll have to be especially disappointing in my report."

His expression softened slightly and he said, "I apologize, Miss Norwick. You are merely doing your job. But I'm afraid there is nothing more for you to do here. It's best you go."

All the way out of the castle Emma felt the distinct sensation that there was something she was missing, something she wasn't thinking about. Despite what Snape had assured her of, she was certain she'd seen the necklace in that shop, and no matter how she tried to change her mind about it, she knew she'd seen it before.

But if it hadn't been in Borgin and Burke's, where could it have been? And if she couldn't figure it out, how on earth was she to be expected to help Katie?


	27. Quest for Answers

**A/N: SORRY for the superlong delay on this! I got caught up in school work and life and other important things. Nearly summer, though, time for more chapters! Hopefully this one doesn't take very long. :D**

** -C**

Work for Emma had become merely routine, although a strenuous, arduous routine. She had gotten used to the mountains of paperwork pushed upon her by the Minister and Umbridge, and she wondered vaguely from time to time when they were going to give up their ridiculous attempts to squeeze her out of the Ministry. The standards of Emma's work clearly weren't going to fall any time soon.

Fred had warned her that she was overworking herself, but she merely retorted that he could stand putting a bit less energy into his own work.

Of course, the two things were very different. He didn't work so hard for such a short period of the day, but rather worked when the shop was open and did product development and research as the inspiration struck him. But Emma got so frustrated when he would chastise her for things more or less out of her control that she would lash out, if a bit irrationally, and then she always felt terrible for it.

"It's fine," Fred had told her after she came to him in tears for their latest fight. "Darling, I understand. I'm not mad at you."

Surprisingly, he never was. He was just worried about her, as he always was. It was sweet, really.

The truth was, though, Emma knew she was working far harder than she should ever have to do. She had taken work home with her, especially things having to do with Katie's case. Despite what Professor Snape had assured her when she'd visited Hogwarts, Emma thought there was something she was missing right in front of her face.

"I just can't put my finger on it," Emma moaned as Fred lay breakfast before her. "I don't know where it would have come from. I've talked to all of my sources, cross-referenced dozens of lists. I just don't know how that necklace got into Katie's possession! Or anyone's, for that matter. Apparently it just popped out of thin air!"

Fred slid a fork and a cup of tea toward her.

"Did you talk to Dad yet?" he asked. "He might see something you're missing. He did this for years, you know."

Emma blinked up at him.

"You," she said slowly, "are brilliant."

Fred just grinned, shrugging. She was pleased that he didn't say something like, 'I know,' but she was too pleased at the thought of some way to move forward that she didn't even want to smack him for being so insufferably smug.

She finished her breakfast very quickly after that, nearly burning her tongue on hot tea, but Fred cast a quick Cooling Charm at it when she went to pick it up.

Emma didn't even thank him properly, just kissed his quickly and sloppily on her way out the door and rushed to the office.

Arthur wasn't in when she got to his office, so she stood outside and waited impatiently, running through her mind the places he might be, but deciding in the end that it was too much of a risk of missing him if she left to track him down somewhere else. For a split second she thought she might have missed him, but she knew that he always worked Wednesdays, so it was just a matter of patience.

Patience.

For about fifteen long minutes she waited, but Arthur finally came strolling down the corridor to his office, nose in a file she couldn't read the label of, not that she actually cared much about it.

"Emma!" he said when he looked up to open his door, surprised. "Fancy seeing you here! Did we have an appointment?"

"No, no," she said breathlessly. "No, it's just I've been having difficulty with something, but Fred suggested I see you about it, so... here I am!"

"So you are," Arthur said kindly, swinging the door open happily. "Come on in!"

Emma felt relieved as she followed Arthur into his office and sat down across the desk from him as he closed the file he was holding, setting it on top of a pile in the corner of his desk.

"What is it that's troubling you?" he asked, folding his hands on his desk like a counselor or headmaster.

"I'm sure you've heard of Katie Bell's situation," Emma said sadly.

"Nasty business," Arthur said with a sad nod.

"Yes," Emma said thickly. "And... and I've been trying to track down for the Auror's office where that necklace she was holding came from, because it's been assigned to me. Well, you know about that. But anyway, I can't seem to track it down at all. None of it's adding up; it's like the necklace appeared out of thin air."

"Hmm," Arthur said, frowning. "None of the places you know of?" Emma shook her head. "And I really don't think I know of any place I didn't already write down for you. Hmm. You know what I used to do when I wasn't sure where to turn in your job?"

Emma shook her head again, waiting for what she hoped would be some sort of profound wisdom. She couldn't let Katie down.

Arthur smiled slightly.

"If things don't add up there's really only one person to talk to. Albus."

Emma stared at him for a moment, and then a slow smile broke across her face.

"Of course," she said with a small laugh. "Of course. I'm going to Hogwarts right away, then. Could you make sure things from my office get diverted here if they're urgent?"

"Naturally," Arthur said kindly. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Emma."

She smiled a bit sadly.

"Me too," she muttered, waving goodbye to Arthur and taking off for Hogwarts straight away, not even thinking to check if Albus was there in advance. He would be there, she was almost certain.

She paced outside the gargoyle, trying to recall what the latest password was for Dumbledore's office. Before she could think of it, though, she spotted Professor Snape coming toward her down the corridor.

"Back again, I see," he snarled at her without a greeting. "Going to stick your nose in things that have nothing to do with your job again?"

Emma's heart froze for a moment before she realized that he was keeping up appearances.

"Naturally," she said coldly. "Could you assist me? I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore."

"If I must," Severus sighed, turning to the gargoyle. "Sugar Quill."

The gargoyle moved, and Emma quickly thanked Severus before rushing up the stairs. He wouldn't have bothered letting her in if Dumbledore had been somewhere else. She knocked sharply on the wooden door at the top of the stairs, tapping her foot impatiently without knowing she was doing it, waiting to hear Albus's voice telling her to enter before bursting into the room excitedly.

He was looking at her calmly from the other side of his desk, smiling slightly, perhaps a bit bemused, his blue eyes twinkly faintly behind his half-moon glasses.

"Good morning, Emma," he said softly.

"Albus," she said, stepping forward. "What... what do you know about Katie Bell's incident?"

"As much as the Aurors, I should think," he said, clearly amused with her conversation starter. "Is there something particular you wish to discuss? I know she was a very close friend."

"She was my best friend," Emma replied. "I... I'm working on a part of her case, though. For the Ministry. They wanted me to track down the origin of the necklace, as it's a Muggle artifact, obviously. Anyway, I can't seem to figure it out."

"I see," Albus said, his smile not fading one whit as he motioned for her to sit down. "Where have you checked?"

"Oh, all the usual places," Emma said dismissively. "I was so sure it was at Borgin and Burkes, but they doctor their books so thoroughly, and then when I talked to Severus he assured me that it had never been in the shop and the problem is anyone would take his word over mine." She hesitated. "Not that I don't believe him, it's just that I was so sure..."

Albus waved his wand calmly and Emma had a feeling that he'd put an Imperturbable Charm on the door.

"I am going to tell you something, Emma," Albus said softly. "And you cannot let it leave this room."

"But my report," Emma began, but Albus shook his head.

"I will talk to Rufus, deal with your report," Albus said firmly. "Listen, you are right, of course. The necklace was at Borgin and Burkes. Severus is on my orders not to allow it to be traced to there. We know who did it. We need to deal with the matter gently, of course. It's for the Order. Tonks knows what to do. If you have any more questions, feel free to come to me." He sighed. "Normally I would be able to anticipate how to deal with your work issues that interfere with the Order, but if you understand, with all of the strange things they're putting on your desk..."

"I understand," Emma said with a nod. "Albus, do you think... do you think Katie will be all right?"

He gave her a sad smile.

"Katie Bell was very lucky," he said kindly. "She could have died, and though I believe the healing process will be slow and perhaps even painful, but Severus and I have discussed it thoroughly, and we are of the firm belief that she will, indeed, fully heal."

"Well, that's something," Emma said sadly. "A sweeter girl it couldn't have happened to."

"Miss Bell is certainly a light in these halls," Albus said softly. "I must ask, how are things at the Ministry? Any change?"

"I think they're getting bored with trying to fire me," Emma said with a shrug and a sigh. "They really haven't got a lot to work with, thankfully. Arthur has given me a lot of support, and Tonks. And Fred and George have been very helpful when I'm off the clock."

"Ah, yes, Messers Weasley," Albus said with a fond smile. "I hear their joke shop is flourishing."

"Yes," Emma said with a proud laugh. "Yes, they're brilliant, and they're having a lot of fun. I help sometimes, on my days off. It's refreshing. The pace is still frenetic, but the stakes are different."

"I understand," he said. "I think they are very good for you, Emma."

"I think so too," Emma said with a soft smile, looking down at the desk. She frowned slightly, seeing his injured hand clearly for the first time. "Sir, forgive me, but how did you injure yourself?"

Albus covered his arm as if habitually with one of his long, wide sleeves and smiled at her.

"Oh, nothing to concern yourself with," he assured her. "Slower reflexes and the occasional foolishness of an old man. I hope it doesn't trouble you."

"Does it... does it hurt?" she asked.

"I assure you, Emma, it bothers me not at all," he insisted. "Now, I think you have a lot of work to get done?"

"Yes, I'm sure you're right," she sighed, standing. "Thank you, Albus. It's good to know where to turn when I'm desperate."

"You can turn to me for as long as I'm here, Emma," Albus told her with a smile and a wave of his good hand and she left Hogwarts feeling both lighter and a bit more concerned.

For as long as he was there? Was he thinking of retiring? It was nearly impossible to imagine Hogwarts without Albus Dumbledore.

And they were, after all, in a war. What if that wasn't what he meant at all?

She shivered a little as she made her way up to the flat above the shop that night, still thinking about her morning, stepping into the flat and freezing at the sight that greeted her.

Fred had just lit a pair of candles on a conjured table that was in the center of a living room. She could see their usual furniture shrunken in the corner. He had some of her favorite dishes of his mother's on the table, including that delicious pudding Molly refused to give her the recipe to until she and Fred were 'married', which was the most tempting reason to tell Molly about their elopement.

"You had your mother cook us dinner?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow and forgetting about all of the paperwork she'd had to deal with throughout the day.

"Yeah, I told her I had a special night planned," he said with a mischievous grin. "I think she thinks I'm proposing."

They both laughed as she sat down across from him, surprised when he waved his wand to push in her chair for her.

"So what's the occasion?" she asked. "I've already got your name. What more do you want?"

For a split second her heart stopped and she looked up at him, wondering if he wanted a child, if he was trying to butter her up, ask if they could start a family.

But then she remembered all of the reasons he would never ask that of her, one of the big ones being that they could count the people who knew they were married on one hand. And there was also the fact that they were in the middle of a war and he couldn't possibly expect her to bring a child into a world where nothing was guaranteed.

"The occasion is George having a date with Angelina so that I have the whole flat to myself with you," Fred said with a smile. "And I haven't had a proper date with you in too long. Shags in the shower don't count."

Emma groaned slightly, teasing him with a grin.

"But I love the shags in the shower," she sighed.

"So do I," he growled, his eyes dark with desire as he ran his foot up her leg teasingly. "But not until after you've had a proper dinner, beautiful."

She blushed, picking up her fork and taking a bite of the pasta his mother had made.

It was nice, admittedly, to have proper food that hadn't been made by people who'd only learned because they had to.

The sexual tension throughout dinner and dessert was intense, though, and Emma kept looking up at Fred and shivering slightly to find him staring at her as he ate. Even though they joked and talked and it was a perfectly lovely date, she could just see the fantasies behind his eyes every time she glanced at his face and it was making her hot.

As soon as she finished the last bit of wine, Emma found her glass being removed from her hand by Fred's fingers, setting it aside as he took her hands in his, leading her to their room with eyes burning so brightly with lust that she was sure she'd never seen him so desperate before.

"I love you," he whispered, voice shaky as he slammed the door behind him, locking it with a quick hand that then moved to untuck her blouse. He then pulled the chiffon material off over her head, tossing it to the floor and kissing her so desperately as she scrambled to undo his robes and throw them off his shoulders.

They couldn't get undressed fast enough, his hands tinkering with her bra, hers with his trouser button. She'd just finished the trouser zip when his mouth encased her left breast and she forgot what her fingers were meant to be doing for a moment, running them through his silky red hair.

"Unh, Fred!" she groaned when he nibbled at her nipple gently. He moaned around it, the vibrations almost as much of a tease as his teeth and tongue.

He pulled away and she gasped at the loss.

"You taste so good," he growled, unzipping her skirt deftly and letting it pool to the floor around her ankles. He backed her up to their bed, pushing her down on it, actually tearing her lace knickers in his eagerness to undress her.

She shrieked his name, half because of what he'd just done, half because he had put his mouth around her clit in that moment and given in a vigorous suck.

But the reasoning behind her shriek was lost in a jumble of incoherent babbling and animalistic thoughts of more, more, more.

He was gripping her thighs so hard she was sure when she hit her climax and came down that she would have bruises in the morning, but she found she didn't mind as he pulled off his trousers and pants and hovered over her.

Fred entered her more slowly than she would have liked, but the long, low moan he let out as he moved inside of her was almost as incredible as the feeling of him filling her. They panted and moaned together, making slow, passionate love instead of the fast, urgent first climax she'd had that night.

Emma could taste herself when he kissed her and she sighed into his mouth as he hit just the right spot. It was incredible how much better things had gotten since their first time, and that had been fantastic on its own.

"That was... wow," Emma sighed when they finally collapsed together on the bed, cuddling in the sweat and heat of their pairing.

"Yeah," Fred groaned, shifting slightly so that she was resting on his strong body. "Mind-blowing."

"We should probably clean up dinner," Emma muttered sleepily.

"Leave it," Fred said with a shrug. "George can handle it."

Emma got the sneaking suspicion that she would be cleaning up the dishes in the morning and putting the furniture back anyway, but she was too tired to do it properly at the moment anyway, and Fred just felt perfect.

It would wait.


	28. Unlocking Secrets

Emma turned on the wireless to hear Lee Jordan's voice, doing the radio commentary for Quidditch for the WWN. She sat down with her mug of tea, listening to the familiar sounds of Lee telling her all about what was going on in a game of Quidditch. The names were less familiar than the ones in school, but he still had all of the passion he'd had when they were young. She leaned her head back into Fred's favorite armchair and inhaled his linger scent as the feel of a day off soaked over her. They would have a small Order meeting that night, but she was enjoying just letting herself relax for once.

The door opened and she heard a heavy sigh, looking up to find George coming in covered in sweat. She smiled.

"Rough time with the mail orders?" she asked.

"I just got attacked," he groaned. "By a pygmy puff."

Emma nearly dropped her mug with surprise.

"You're joking," she said dryly.

"No," he groaned, pouring himself a large glass of firewhiskey and chugging it before pouring another. "No, I'm serious. A pygmy puff bit me."

"I'm... I'm sorry," she said carefully. "Did it... hurt?"

"No," George admitted, sitting down across from her and pouring his third glass. "No, then it tried to _mate_ with my _finger_."

Emma just blinked at him, putting her mug down carefully so that she didn't actually drop it when she got another surprise, and she tried to run over his words in her mind for a moment to make sure he'd actually said what she thought she'd heard.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "You... you had a pygmy puff try to _shag_ your finger?"

"Yeah, that's more or less it," George said, wincing after his fourth glass of firewhiskey. He waved the empty bottle. "Do we have more of this?"

Emma shook her head.

"I need to get some more next time I'm doing the shopping," she said, secretly glad they'd only had one for this particular bizarre incident."

"I might go to the pub," he groaned.

"And tell Tom and the patrons that a small ball of fluff tried to shag your hand?" Emma said dryly. "I'm not entirely sure that's a good idea."

"You're probably right," he groaned, leaning back on the couch and groaning. "Fred gave me the rest of the day off, said I looked about to be sick."

"And so you came up here to drink?" she asked sympathetically.

"No, I went out back to be sick first," George said casually. "Then I came up here to drink."

"That would explain the sweat," Emma muttered without really thinking about it.

"Sweat?" George said, confused.

"Yes, you're covered in it," she said, rolling her eyes. "Take a shower, try not to hit your head or drown."

"Yes, ma'am," George said, frowning at the empty firewhiskey bottle in his hands for a moment before setting it down and heading off to shower.

Known that George liked to sing when showering drunk, Emma turned up the match and returned to her tea.

And then her mind started to wonder... How _exactly_ did a pygmy puff try to shag George's _finger_?

She felt horrible thinking of such a thing, but at the same time she really was curious, and there was nothing more interesting to her in that moment than anything that didn't have to do with the Ministry, and that had unfortunately presented itself in George being sexually assaulted by a ball of fluff.

"No," she told herself, swallowing down more tea. "No, I really don't want to know."

But the more she told herself that she really, truly did not want to know, the more active her imagination became, trying to picture just what it might have looked like, while becoming more and more repulsed by the thought.

She looked down at her cup of tea, which now suddenly looked remarkably unappetizing, and decided that she needed a shower, too.

Turning off the wireless she heard George's terribly monotone, off-key voice screeching, "Come, stir my cauldron, and if you dooo it riiiiight!"

She plugged her ears with her fingers and headed to the bathroom she shared with Fred.

She pulled off her clothes and climbed into the shower, turning on the water and adjusting it quickly as possible to drown out George's terrible rendition of Celestina Warbeck.

Emma took a while rubbing herself with body wash to get rid of the unclean feeling that didn't seem to want to go away after the incident that happened to George.

Part of her was wanting Fred, as she'd had only one shower in the past few weeks that hadn't included her husband, but she also recognized how awkward it would have been to have a steamy shower with her husband right after hearing about George's plight.

Perhaps she ought to be laughing about it, she mused. After all, it was a bloody joke shop. Surely someone would be able to find humor in the whole thing. Perhaps Fred was downstairs laughing about it somewhere, wondering what was taking George so long. There would be jokes about George wanking to thoughts of the pygmy puffs and then there would be no piece in the flat until the jokes got old and stopped, or something better came along.

Or George got something worse on Fred. Which seemed rather unlikely, considering.

Emma shuddered again, scrubbing a bit harder.

No, Emma could not get out of her head the idea of George wanking to a pygmy puff, so she was contemplating Obliviating herself for several minutes before giving up, deciding that it was all useless, and going back to her tea, which had unfortunately gone cold.

George came out a minute later, still shuddering.

"I see you showered too," he said, his lips upturning.

"Don't ask," Emma demanded. "Warm up my tea and I'll make you a snack before you go back to work."

"Done," George said, kissing her cheek. "And we'll not speak of this to Fred."

"Deal."

Later that day, Fred sat down beside Emma on the sofa and gave her a big, sloppy kiss on the same cheek George had kissed earlier and it was all she could do not to burst out with nervous laughter.

"You all right?" Fred asked, frowning.

"Yeah, just thinking of something," Emma said quickly, kissing his lips to distract him. "Not important."

"Right," Fred sighed, kissing her more eagerly, obviously forgetting whatever it was that he'd sat down for in the first place.

That is, until George cleared his throat and the pair jumped apart.

"Wow, you two get going quickly," he teased. "Fred, mate, I've promised to see Mum tonight, I'm going to try to get her to do a load of laundry when I'm there. Got anything you want to throw in?"

"Ah, yeah, my white shirts all have work stains on them," Fred said thoughtfully, running his fingers absently through Emma's hair. "Just make sure none of Emma's stuff is in there. Wouldn't want her freaking out."

George snorted.

"Yeah, I'll make sure none of Emma's underthings end up in my laundry pile, thanks. I'm not totally stupid."

"Are you not?" Emma teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

George raised both of his eyebrows at her, smiling lopsidedly in his way.

"You know, Emma, I think we've been a bad influence on you," he said with a boisterous laugh. "You're cracking jokes now like a true prankster. Sure you don't want to run while you can?"

Emma just giggled, shaking her head as Fred kissed her temple.

"Have fun with Mum tonight," Fred teased. "Work your laundry magic!"

George waved his hand, hurrying off to ready the laundry so he could shrink it and take it with him.

"Why is he always the one who brings laundry?" Emma asked.

"Because he's a bit more charming," Fred muttered as George left. "Mum always seems to fall for it when he gives her the long list of things that's keeping him from getting his laundry done, how horribly it's messing up his dating life that he doesn't have a clean flat to bring birds back to, all that. She wants grandchildren."

Emma frowned at that, looking down at her lap and wondering what would happen when Molly finally did find out that they'd gotten married. Would all be forgiven if Emma produced a grandchild?

Could Emma produce a grandchild so quickly?

She shivered cuddling closer to Fred.

"What's wrong?" he asked, running his fingers through her hair again, petting it back out of her face. "Feeling well?"

"Just thinking about things," Emma admitted slowly. "Your mother for one."

"Ah, yeah, sometimes I shiver when I think about her too," Fred teased, grinning cheekily. "It's a reflex, no shame in it."

Emma swatted at him playfully.

"Not like that," she laughed. "No, I was thinking about when we finally tell her that we got married. How she's going to react..."

"I see," Fred sighed, nodding. "That would make me shiver too. Was it the mention of grandchildren that did it?"

"A little," she admitted, resting her face against the curve of his neck. "I feel like...like she is going to expect so much of me once we tell her, especially because we kept it from her."

"Dad will talk to her-"

"When has Arthur ever managed to properly talk down your mother?" Emma asked, amused. Fred just smiled and shrugged, shifting so he could look down at her. "Exactly. You don't think she'll demand grandchildren right away, do you?"

"Demand?" Fred repeated with a hollow laugh. "Not really her style. Pester? Perhaps." Emma clicked her tongue disapprovingly and he laughed more emotively. "You're too good at that. No, I mean, I think it would help smooth things over, but I really don't think she would feel right demanding it of us. Knowing my mother, it's not to say that she wouldn't drop poorly veiled hints at us and go on at Bill in a way that would apply to both of us as well, but it's not like we see her enough for it to be too big of a problem." Then he frowned slightly. "Why, were you thinking you wanted to have kids, or didn't want to?"

Emma blinked.

It was a fair, very good question. She looked up at Fred's concerned eyes and wondered what the right answer was.

"I don't really know," she admitted. "I haven't really thought about it very much. What...what do you want?"

His frowned softened as he thought, searching her eyes carefully as his brain worked, fingers still working through her hair.

"I'm honestly not sure that we're ready for kids right now," he said slowly. "We just got married. You're working a lot, and I'm pretty busy." He frowned just a little. "And we're in a war. But... by the time we tell Mum those things may have changed and I... I really love you. The idea of you carrying my child is not only incredible but... Well, it's really sexy. And I think we'd make cute children, don't you?"

Emma giggled as he kissed her eyebrow.

"Think of the ginger overload," she laughed.

"I want a little girl," he whispered against her ear, "who looks just like her mother." He kissed her earlobe. "She'll never hear me say no, but she'll be so, so loved."

Emma could feel warmth rising up in her stomach at the thought of a child with Fred.

She was drawn into a confusing merge of thoughts as Fred pressed his lips to hers, full of the hunger and passion he'd had before George interrupted them. She was only vaguely aware that they had the flat to themselves for the night as Fred pushed her down on the sofa, mouth still hungrily exploring hers, fingertips running up the hem of her skirt in a familiar and delicious way that made her shiver all over again.

He chuckled against her mouth and Emma gave in, letting him drive her crazy.

When he fell asleep against her chest that night, Emma had a hard time falling asleep in spite of the exhaustion she felt.

She felt as though she was letting Katie down every moment she wasn't spending on finding the source of that necklace. She also felt as though the leads she'd followed with Professor Dumbledore, who'd told her that dropping it would be better than what she was doing, were pointless.

It was like he didn't want her to find the attacker.

Forgetting for a moment that Fred was sleeping on her chest, Emma sat bolt upright.

"Mmm, whassamatter?"

"Oh, love, I'm so sorry," she sighed, kissing his head. "It's just that I think I might have realized something."

"What's that?" he groaned. "Is everything all right?"

"It's about work, darling," she said, kissing his forehead as moved to become more level with her. "About Katie."

"What is it?" he demanded, shaking his head slightly to wake himself up.

"I think that Dumbledore doesn't want me to make a complete report," she said quietly. "I think he wants me to drop it."

"Why would he want that?" Fred asked, confused.

"Why indeed?" Emma muttered, sitting up a bit more, frowning. "Fred, do you think he already knows who did it?"

"I dunno," Fred said with a frown. "I suppose it's possible. You think he's laying a trap?"

"Maybe," she whispered, licking her lips thoughtfully and balling the sheets up in her hands. "If it's a known Death Eater he could easily turn the tables on them with the support of the Auror office. His word is back to being good now. So there must be a reason for not saying."

She remembered something Sirius had told her about a murder at Hogwarts years ago, future Death Eaters killing another student. Dumbledore knew who had done it, Sirius was sure of it, but he did nothing.

"You don't think it was a student?" she whispered. "I mean, could it have been?"

"I don't know, darling," Fred sighed, rubbing his temples. "I don't know half what you do about this whole affair."

Emma sighed, running her fingers through Fred's hair, thinking.

"Well, it happened on a Hogsmeade weekend, at Hogsmeade."

"True."

"In a public bathroom."

"Right."

"But the problem is where did they get the artifact and how did they get it to Hogsmeade," she groaned. "There aren't any shops for things like that in Hogsmeade, so it had to be bought elsewhere."

"Maybe someone sent it to Hogsmeade for them to pick up," he sighed. "You know, by post. They pick it up, they go to the loo, they curse someone into doing the rest."

"And it's a sloppy plan, of course," Emma said, considering his idea. "Because Katie would have been stopped and searched at the gates. It's a bid of desperation. Like a student doing the bidding of Voldemort." She nodded. "But where did they get the item in the first place?"

"What about the shops you-"

"Wait," she muttered. "Something your father said, something..."

She leapt out of bed, going over to where she kept all of her papers on the case, flipping through, looking for what she'd scribbled down of what Arthur had said, trying to remember what it was that seemed so important at the time.

"Snape lied to me," she muttered, frowning. "He lied to me, I'm almost sure of it."

"So?" Fred asked. "So he lied to you. What does it mean? What does it matter?"

"If he would admit it," Emma said slowly, "I would drop the matter."

"What do you mean?" Fred asked. "What's the point of that?"

"If Professor Snape would be willing to admit to me that he lied to me," Emma reasoned, "it means he's done it for the Order, which means Dumbledore feels it's important. Dumbledore may not always be right, but he's right more than most, and so I'd be willing to drop the matter knowing that Katie's not in any real further danger. After all, if I'm not serving the Order through my job, what am I doing?"

Fred snorted, shaking his head.

"What makes you think Snape would ever admit it?"

"I'm not sure," Emma admitted. "I'll have to go to Hogwarts in the morning."

"You've got a meeting in the morning."

How had Fred remembered that? Even Emma had to check her planner to keep track of all the ridiculous meetings.

"Right," she sighed, putting the papers away and climbing back into bed. "When can I go to Hogwarts?"

"Your next day off is early November," he muttered, curling up against her again. "You could go then. Until then, you could suspend the report."

"I'm not sure that will fly," she said thoughtfully. "Then again, I'll have more time to work on other files."

"That's the spirit," Fred sighed. "Tonks won't mind the delay, and from the sound of things nobody else seems to even want the report in the first place."

Emma didn't want to tell him that even Tonks didn't seem to want the report. Emma was the only person who really wanted to know what had happened to Katie Bell, and if she was right, the person responsible would probably get away with it.

Her stomach churned as she thought of Sirius, wondering if he might not be right about the greater good requiring a very high price to be paid.

Fred fell asleep again far quicker than Emma could do, especially once she was energized and excited about her new thoughts. Calming down her brain wasn't an easy task in the best of times, Ravenclaw that she was, but she tried to just focus on the feel of Fred's weight on her chest, the smell of his hair. Emma closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the pillow, trying to formulate as sleep began creeping up on her slowly the words she would say when she finally had her audience with Professor Snape.


	29. Investigation

It was her first day off in November and she was beginning it with a breakfast meeting with Tien to catch up.

"It seems I never see you unless I help in the shop," Emma sighed, thinking over how she was going to address Snape later that day.

"Are you working the shop today, by any chance?" Tien asked, flicking bits of sausage around her plate lazily.

"Maybe later," Emma said. "I've got some stuff to do and I'm not sure how it will go or how long it will take."

"Yeah, George mentioned you'd be seeing the dungeon bat today," Tien said with a grin. "Can we still call him a dungeon bat if he doesn't teach Potions anymore?"

Emma shrugged and said, "I think his office is still in the bowels of the school, so it doesn't really matter. He still smells of pickled erkling."

Tien laughed, arranging the bits of sausage into a frightened face.

"Weird," she said, arranging the sausage-eyebrow carefully. "I would have thought that the not being around it would have fixed that. Do you think he bathes in the stuff?"

Emma didn't want to think about it at all, both the bit about Snape bathing or the bit about the pickled erkling.

"It would explain the hair," she finally said in her most thoughtful voice, thinking of how Tien would always be Tien. No matter what was going on, no matter who died, no matter how long Katie stayed in the hospital, she would go on being herself and treating life with the same deep-but-careless regard she'd treated life with for as long as Emma had known her.

"I wonder," Tien muttered, pulling out a notebook Emma had never seen and scribbling something in it quickly before putting it away.

Emma raised an eyebrow and gestured toward it.

"What's that?"

"Hmm?" Tien hummed absently. "Oh, the notebook? Just a little something to keep track of ideas for the shop. George pays me dearly for them if he can make them work, so I try them out first and give him hints."

"How many of the things they do are actually your idea first?" Emma asked, amused.

"Maybe forty percent?" Tien said with a shrug. "The boys do a lot of the work, to be honest. Their defense line is all theirs. I don't have any skill for that sort of thing. You know, useful stuff."

That was certainly unsurprising. Tien occasionally had information that proved useful, but she really had little interest in discovering things for the point of their being useful. Her interest in information was purely for amusement, which was what made her a bit strange for a Ravenclaw. Her love of learning strictly adhered to learning ways and things to make herself more amused. No doubt it often benefited other people, like the Weasley twins and their customers, but that was hardly the point.

The very idea that Tien had managed to make a career out of it was a miracle in and of itself.

"I should probably head to the shop soon," Tien said sadly, rearranging her sausage bits into a caterpillar. She grinned up at Emma and said, "Hey, wanna watch me get our meal for free?"

"_No_," Emma said firmly, knowing exactly what Tien had planned to do: transfigure the sausage bits into an actual caterpillar. She'd done the same thing at the Three Broomsticks once, and it had been utterly embarrassing.

"George has me do it every time we do business brunch," Tien sighed sadly. "He thinks it's funny."

"George is easily amused," Emma said dully.

"No, he's really not," Tien said firmly, more serious than Emma thought she'd ever seen her best friend. "He's a bit of a hedonist like me, sure, and he seeks out amusement, but he's not amused by just anything. That's why he and Fred are constantly pushing the boundaries of the wizarding entertainment industry."

"With your help," Emma teased with her eyebrows raised.

"Yes," Tien quipped, grinning again, clearly very pleased with herself.

Emma hadn't really thought about it that way before, but she supposed Tien was absolutely right about the twins. Emma had always known they were talented and had good business sense, but she hadn't thought that they were hard to pleased, exactly.

But they were never satisfied with the basic pranks and jokes. Dungbombs weren't good enough unless they were being used in a way no one had ever seen before. And once they'd started to formulate their own products nobody at Hogwarts was safe. She smiled slightly to herself, recalling the first time she saw someone who consumed a Canary Cream.

"They're brilliant," she sighed. "But you've got to get to work, dear, and I'm expected at the Hogwarts gates soon."

"Is the bat coming out of his dungeon to greet you?" Tien asked excitedly.

"Doubtful," Emma said with a smile. "But not more procrastinating, miss. George is expecting you!"

The two friends kissed each other's cheeks, promised to meet up that night if Emma didn't come to the shop to work, and went their separate ways, Emma paying the check because Tien had gotten the last one.

She took one last drink of water before heading out of the restaurant, thinking once more to herself how Diagon Alley had become more and more of a disturbing place to be. With a sigh, Emma Disapparated to the Hogsmeade high street, catching her bearings before heading to the familiar gates of Hogwarts.

Even Hogsmeade was an uncomfortable place, she mused, thinking of how bright and pleasing the town had previously seemed, even so late in the autumn. The gloom of Scotland Novembers seemed so much more pervasive with the wanted posters lining the streets and the warnings about how to avoid attack by Death Eaters. Everyone she passed on the street avoided her eyes and hurried away like she might attack them, even if it was some she'd greeted with the friendly way strangers do on previous visits to the town.

Professor McGonagall actually was the one who greeted her at the gate, as it was her free period for the day.

"How do you find work, Miss Norwick?" she asked.

"Actually, just call me Emma, if you don't mind," Emma said with a blush, thinking of how she'd almost just told her professor about her elopement.

"Very well," Professor McGonagall said with a smile. "And work?"

"Oh, it's tiring," Emma sighed with a small smile. "But there's never a dull moment. I imagine I'd be even more tired if I worked for the twins. Have you been to their shop?"

"No," Professor McGonagall said with a tight smile. "But I have confiscated a number of their mail-order catalogues and I have to say that I am rather impressed. The products work as well as advertised?"

"Better, usually," Emma laughed. "How's Hogwarts, Professor?"

"Well, it's better than last year," Professor McGonagall. "But the atmosphere is... tense."

"I can imagine," Emma admitted. "Thank you, Professor. I know my way from here. His office?"

"That is what I was told, yes," Professor McGonagall replied. "You... you do know what you're getting yourself into, yes?"

"I did have him in class for seven years, Professor," Emma laughed. "I imagine I know how not to act like a dunderhead."

The two women parted ways and Emma followed the familiar path to Professor Snape's office, knocking on the door with all the bravery she could muster, not being a Gryffindor herself.

"Enter."

She took a deep breath and followed the simple instruction, closing the door behind her.

"I hope," he said dryly, not even looking up to make sure it was her, "that you are here on some other matter than the last time we met."

"Related," she said, sitting down across from him without invitation, which prompted him to look up at her with thinly veiled surprise.

"Very well," he sighed. "Speak your piece and let's be done with it."

Emma drew herself up to her full height.

"I would like to think, Professor, that you have even a nominal amount of respect for me," she said without allowing him to interrupt her to either confirm or deny her claim. She really didn't want him to. "That being said, I've been considering our last meeting and I have strong evidence to believe that you lied to me, for noble reasons perhaps, and maybe even on orders from one of your masters." One of his eyebrows quirked at that and she knew she was on the right track, so she pressed on. "So, Professor, if you have any respect for me at all in any way, I would ask that you tell me here and now if you have ever, in our acquaintance, lied to me about anything. And I don't mean about my potions abilities or things like that, but things that matter. Have you ever lied to me about anything that mattered? If you say yes, I'll drop the whole thing, but I trust you not to lie to me now."

He watched her in silence for a long moment and Emma thought that by not answering he was trying to find a way out of treating her fairly in this situation, but she knew he wanted her to drop it. So she knew that if he could find a way to say he'd lied to her he would do it.

But the problem was, of the few times they'd discussed things of actual import, this was the only time he even could have lied to her. So she had him cornered, and she was fairly certain he knew it.

"Well," he sighed, "I will certainly commend you on your bargaining abilities, Mrs. Weasley."

She gasped, eyes wide.

Professor Snape smirked.

"Yes, I know about your _elopement_. Clever of you to keep it quiet. I will be honest with you, of course. I have lied to you many times, both important and otherwise, and I expect you already knew that. So why did you come all the way here? Surely not to waste my time."

Emma shook her head, taking another deep breath, trying to recompose herself.

"I needed to hear it from you," she explained. "Professor Dumbledore would lie to me, I'm sure of it. And if I'm right you're the only two people who really know the truth. And I don't think you would lie to me about this if you didn't have to, and you don't. I'm not going to press it. Whatever you're hiding, it's none of my business, and perhaps not even the business of my department. Just... just don't lie to me again, okay? If it's Order work and you need me to drop something, I'll do it. I'm not a child, professor."

"No," he sighed. "You're most certainly not." They just watched each other for another long period, Emma determined not to back down before she had some sort of response. Finally, he said, "Very well, I will make you a deal. If you ever do come to me about something you need to stop pursuing for any reason, including your safety, I will tell you so. I may not tell you why, but I will tell you to back away and I expect you to trust me."

"Of course," Emma said with a nod.

"And I mean no matter what happens in the meantime," he said softly. Emma frowned at him, wanting to know what he meant by that, what he expected to happen that would make her not trust him, but his expression suggested that he would not elaborate further, so she merely nodded, muttered her agreement to this condition.

"Very well," he said, standing. "If there is nothing further, Mrs. Weasley, I suggest you leave."

Ah, he even made a parting sound like an insult. There was the professor she knew.

"Thank you, Professor," she said with a small, forced smile, and she walked back to the gates alone, Disapparating as soon as she was on the other side.

Emma dropped by the Ministry quickly to tell Tonks that she was dropping the case due to lack of evidence, dropping subtle hints to suggest that it was an Order matter, and then she retreated to the shop to see how Tien and the boys were getting on.

"Ah, Emma, great," George said happily. "You want to help Fred and Tien close? Verity called in sick today and I've got a date with Angelina in about five minutes."

"Go on, lover boy," Emma teased, pulling out her wand to lock the door and get the blinds.

"You're amazing!" George cried, grabbing his cloak and hurrying out of the door.

She shook her head, wondering if she would hear him say that ever again. With a sigh, she went to the back where Tien and Fred were locking up the stock and experiments.

"Did you count the till?" she asked.

"Yeah, I did that before I came back here because George wouldn't stop whining about how he would never finish it before he had to go," Tien said, checking off something on a clipboard.

"Are you staying for dinner, Tien?" Emma asked, picking up the third clipboard and counting the back set of shelves.

"If you'll have me!" she replied happily.

They finished up far quicker than Emma had expected and the three of them went up to the flat where Fred got started on dinner, watching the girls set the table.

"How was dungeon bat?" Tien asked happily.

"Reasonable," Emma said slowly. "I think we've reached an understanding for moving forward as well, which is more than I actually expected out of him. He's almost... agreeable when he wants to me."

"Now that's something I hadn't expected to hear you say," Fred said with a smirk.

"I'm getting more than a little worried about Tonks, too," Emma said sadly. "I almost want to make her talk to me about whatever's bugging her, but I know I can't make her if she doesn't want to."

"No," Tien said thoughtfully. "But I think I might be able to. Do you have any way of accessing her tea, or-"

"No drugs," Emma growled as Fred put food on the table and sat down between Emma and Tien, who merely shrugged.

"Just a thought."

"I think that as thankful as we are that you drugged _us_," Fred said with a smirk, "it's a bit unethical, especially when we're not at all sure what she might say."

Tien shrugged once more and they dug into food.

"I don't know, though," Emma finally said. "I'm so nervous about Katie, I really don't need to worry about Tonks too. And I know what Sirius did when he was depressed. I don't want her getting all reckless because she's upset."

"So tell her that," Fred suggested. "She knows you cared a lot about Sirius, she'll understand your concern at the very least, and maybe she'll give you some sort of reassurance."

"Have I ever told you you're brilliant?" Emma asked with a grin.

"At least once a week," he replied, kissing her lips briefly before turning back to his dinner.

"You two are so cute," Tien teased. "Ah, well, I think I'm going to turn in soon. Give you some alone time. Arrange my socks."

"You don't wear socks," Emma pointed out.

"Doesn't mean I don't own any," Tien said with a shrug. "They look so interesting, even if wearing them is a legal form of torture."

They all laughed together, and Emma realized that this was the wonderful thing about marrying Fred.

Nobody else could have managed to handle Tien with such finesse but George, and that just couldn't happen.

"You're really worried about Tonks, aren't you?" Fred asked as they cleaned up from dinner and put the dishes away. "I've not seen as much of her as you have, but..."

"Yes," Emma admitted. "I think I know some of what it's about, but I suspect there are things she hasn't told me. And I want to know, I want to help her, but I'm so worried she would be offended at my asking-"

"She won't be offended when you express that you're concerned," Fred said resolutely. "She trusts you and values your opinions. I know or she wouldn't have been so interested in this case with Katie. She knows it's cut and dried until you tell her otherwise, and she gave you the extra time to talk to Snape today."

"You're right about that," Emma said thoughtfully.

She hadn't realized, but Tonks did seem to put a lot of faith and store by Emma's reports, even if they were minimal or not entirely necessary. Perhaps she would react well to Emma confronting her with the sulking. She wouldn't know if she didn't try.

"Come on," she sighed. "I think about this more tomorrow. I want to get to bed before George comes back from his date, or we'll be listening to a reel of the cleverest things he said all night."

"Yes, please," Fred groaned, leading her to the bedroom, using the bathroom while she undressed and crawled into bed. When he came out again, undressed, and crawled into the bed beside her she turned over, resting her arm and face against his chest.

"Today was good," she sighed. "I think I needed a quieter day. I've been so frantic for so long."

Fred began to run his fingers lazily through her hair, his steady, calm breathing soothing her simultaneously. The feel of his fingertips on her scalp was lovely and calming.

"It's nice to see you so relaxed," Fred whispered. "Even when you're upset. I know you would have liked to see Tonks happier, but whatever she's waiting for isn't happening yet, so there's not much more you could have expected."

"No, I don't suppose you're wrong there," Emma said, shifting her head so that he had better access to the area behind her ear, her eyes growing heavier every moment. "But I also learned today that people can be very surprising, so there you go."

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to **_**Paper Grenade**_**, a reader who has recently followed this work, and whose interest has prompted it to be posted quicker. Thank you, **_**Paper Grenade**_**, and I hope you continue to read and enjoy!**

** -C**


	30. Healing

Emma came to the office the following morning with a coffee for Tonks and tea for herself and before she checked in (for she was an hour early), she went straight to the Auror offices and knocked on Tonks's door gently.

"C'min," Tonks grumbled, and Emma entered to find her friend with her elbows on her desk, hands on her forehead, hair brown and lip.

"You okay?" Emma asked, putting coffee in front of her as she shut the door. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Werewolf attack south of Leeds," she muttered. "Every time I see that word in the paper, I just..."

"He's fine," Emma said softly.

"You don't know that," Tonks whimpered.

Emma looked at her and frowned. Then, she said, "You do." Tonks looked up at her to retort, but Emma shook her head and said, "No, listen. When you were on missions last year, did you ever worry about him? Did you think he wasn't fine?"

"No," Tonks whispered, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "No, I knew he was safe..."

"But when he was about to go into battle at the Ministry," Emma whispered, "and you came back to Grimmauld Place, what was it that brought you back?"

Few people knew that Tonks hadn't been expressly called to the expedition to the Ministry, but Remus had let it slip when they'd visited her in the hospital.

"I felt like he was in danger," Tonks whispered. "It was this... this awful, sick feeling in my gut like, like..."

"I know," Emma sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Do you feel that now?"

Tonks sighed, leaning back in her chair hopelessly.

"It's so hard to tell. I just feel so dull and empty all the time, and-"

"And that really doesn't feel anything like a sick feeling in your gut, does it?" Emma prompted reasonably.

Tonks laughed shakily, like she was about to cry again.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she whispered. "So he's probably fine."

"I would say so, since nothing serious even happened to him at the Ministry," Emma reasoned. "Listen, I know you're upset about Remus, but I'm really worried about you, about your health and everything. This is really not okay."

"M'fine," Tonks muttered, going back into herself again.

"You can't tell me you're going to be as safe if you can't transform," Emma replied scornfully. "Not knowing what an absolute klutz you are."

The two women just sat there in sad, companionable silence for a length of time, Emma occasionally glancing up at the clock to see if it was time for her to check in for her own day of work.

"I guess you're probably right," Tonks finally sighed. "I just can't stop worrying. And I know he doesn't want me, but I-"

"I have a hard time believing that," Emma said honestly, smiling slightly. "You couldn't see the way he looked at you when you were unconscious in St. Mungo's, Tonks. I've never seen a man more in love, my husband included."

She hadn't even realized what she'd just said until Tonks looked up at her, shocked.

"Oops," Emma then said sheepishly.

"You're ma-"

"Shh!" Emma hissed, putting a charm on the door. "Yes, we're keeping it quiet, and I can't believe I just said that," she laughed. "We eloped."

"Obviously," Tonks replied dryly, still not to her usual humor, but she seemed so much perkier that Emma decided to keep the conversation on its track.

"Molly doesn't know," Emma explained, "so I'd appreciate you keeping it quiet around her-"

"Molly spends half her time with trying to fix my love life," Tonks said dismissively. "I can't imagine it would even come up."

Emma shook her head.

"We can talk more about this if you come over for dinner sometime," she told her friend. "Fred will want to have his say as well. Are you busy all this week?"

"Ah, let me see," Tonks muttered, looking over her calendar. "No, I've got a day off tomorrow, from everything."

Which meant that she had neither work nor Order work to think of.

Order members were given a few days like that a month, just so they didn't get totally burnt out, like Tonks was already beginning to look.

"You'll come for dinner at our flat?" Emma said helpfully. "I know you don't want to talk, and we won't make you, but we should at least have a proper talk about my marriage."

"Yeah, I'll be there," Tonks said wearily. "You should probably head up to your office, though, or you'll be late."

Emma nodded, picking up her tea and making for her friend's office door.

"Oh, and Emma?" Tonks said with a weak smile as Emma turned the knob.

"Yeah?"

"Congratulations."

Emma smiled that natural, bright smile she got when she thought about being Mrs. Fred Weasley.

With Tonks's promise to make it to dinner, Emma hurried to her own office, checking in, getting to work right away on the mountain of paperwork that always seemed to accumulate whenever Emma had a rare day off. She pulled the stack to her, finished off her tea, and began reading and signing documents, approving reports from other departments, and sending many a thing along to Arthur via interdepartmental memo. She took a quick moment during her break to send an owl to Fred to let him know they would have company the following night.

Thankfully, the remainder of her day was uneventful, although exhausting. By the time she went home that night she was ready for food, a shower, and bed. The boys seemed to be of the same mind, apparently having had a very interesting day of researching where products were concerned.

"Remind me never to let Tien touch explosives again," Fred muttered as they ate their potatoes that night.

"She has reminded us," George groaned. "We just keep forgetting to listen."

"Remind me to listen to you," Fred then sighed.

"I always do," Emma quipped, kissing Fred's forehead, and they went about their night peacefully.

The following night was a completely different story, Emma rushing home from work in order to make a nice dinner. She knew that the expectation when going to visit a Weasley was a good home-cooked meal, and she didn't want to drop the ball on her first time entertaining as a 'Mrs. Weasley.'

"What's all this?" Fred said with a laugh. "Tonks won't mind if you don't act like Mum, you know."

"I'm not acting like your mother," Emma snapped, and then she paused, eyes wide with shock. "That... that..."

"Sounded just like Mum?" George asked, grinning. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Ugh," Emma groaned, but she still put the pasties on the table and began checking her beef wellington to see that it was cooked but still a bit pink.

There was a buzz and George rushed downstairs to let in Tonks, who still didn't have clearance to Apparate straight into the shop and walk up from there.

"How is everything looking to you?" Emma asked nervously.

"Darling, relax," Fred told her, pouring some wine for the four of them. "Everything's going to be fine. She doesn't expect you to be my Mum, as we've said."

Emma knew they were right, and yet still she felt an inexplicable anxiety to make sure everything was perfect.

She put the beef wellington and the steamed brussel sprouts on the table quickly as the footsteps up the stairs to the flat grew louder and she heard George opening the door, leading a still-dejected Tonks in.

"I brought a pudding," Tonks said weakly. She held up a bag that held some cream-filled meringues from Tesco.

"Oh, those are my favorite, that's not even fair," Emma said, grinning. "Did you chill them, or-"

"Yeah, I did a spell," Tonks replied, smiling thinly and putting the bag on the kitchen counter, taking off her coat, which George took and hung up. "I wasn't sure if you'd have Muggle appliances, living in Diagon Alley."

"As long as you're above street level you're allowed to have them," Fred explained. "The magic level is a lot less each story you go up. Sometimes the microwave down above the Menagerie has some issues, but otherwise people don't seem to have too much of a problem, and our fridge works fine."

"Oh, wow, Emma, this looks delicious," Tonks said, not quite with her old enthusiasm, but with a lot for how she was lately.

"Thanks," Emma said nervously, tucking a lock of hair behind her hair. "So, now you know our little secret."

Fred took her hand and kissed it before resting their entwined hands on the table. Tonks gave their hands a watery smile as George dished up the food all around.

"Yeah, congratulations, Fred," Tonks said. "You're a lucky guy."

"The luckiest in the world," Fred said lovingly. "But in case we need someone to hide behind when my mum finds out," he added, teasing.

"You're not hiding behind me," Tonks said, laughing hollowly and wincing. "I've seen your mother's spellwork."

"Fair enough," George laughed. "Emma, this beef is perfect."

"Thanks, George," Emma sighed, more than a little relieved, taking sip of wine. "So, Tonks, how was work today?"

"Work today was just like work yesterday and the day before," Tonks sighed. "We're all too busy chasing shadows to go after the people we actually know are Death Eaters and associates thereof, thanks to Madam Umbridge."

"I hate her," Emma said bitterly.

The three of them blinked at her, and Emma took another sip of wine.

"What?" she snapped. "She's a vile excuse for a human being."

"Of course she is, love," Fred said dully. "We're just not used to you being angry."

"Work makes me a bit angry," Emma admitted sheepishly.

When they finished dinner, the four of them broke out the delicious cream-filled meringues, sitting on the couches an enjoying the sweets with their wine.

"This is the perfect wine for this pudding," Tonks declared. "It's got to be officially promoted this way."

"Agreed," George said happily, licking a bit of cream off his freckled face. "I know what Angelina and I are having on our next date."

They all laughed, and it was so good to hear Tonks laugh, really laugh.

"I've not had a night off in ages," Tonks moaned, leaning back into the sofa. "It seems like even when I'm supposed to be off, Albus needs me for something or there's some big bust for work. I don't get enough of them scheduled in as it is."

"Yeah," George said with a knowing nod. "My last date off with Angelina I got called in to do a last-minute bit for the Order."

Emma raised her eyebrows.

"I didn't know about this," she said sternly.

Fred shifted nervously beside her and said, "I didn't want to wake you, love."

Emma gave him a look that told him quite plainly that they would be discussing this later and he shrank away slightly, turning a bit pink.

"It's the way of things," Tonks said dully. "It's almost impossible to keep track of what anyone is doing anymore, no matter how much we..."

She cut off, looking around at them, realizing that they all knew she was talking about Remus.

"Well," she sighed, getting up, downing her wine quickly, "it was lovely, Emma. Thanks for this. But I should be getting back and getting to bed. I've got work in the morning."

Emma got up and got Tonks her coat, seeing her down to the shop.

"You can come by any time, you know," Emma said honestly. "We're always happy to have you here."

"Thanks," Tonks sighed, her face already looking low and empty in the near-darkness. "But I'm pretty busy."

"I know," Emma whispered. "But when you're less busy... Well, take care of yourself, Tonks. I'll see you at work."

"See you," Tonks said with a wave, going out and Disapparating.

Emma walked back up to the boys feeling conflicted about how to best proceed in cheering up her friend.

A few days later, Emma was called in to a 'department meeting' with Arthur, Madam Umbridge, Percy, and the Minister. Basically, it was to evaluate her performance.

"Hello, Emma," Arthur said kindly as she sat down. "Having a good morning?"

"Not bad so far," Emma said with a weak smile. "George made breakfast, but I escaped."

Percy was shifting in his seat, but a moment later Madam Umbridge entered with the Minister and the family reunion was interrupted.

"Miss Norwick," the Minister drawled, opening her file as he sat down. "Your work has been...exemplary."

"Thank you, sir," Emma replied, glancing at the file and wondering what Umbridge was going to bring to the table in order to get Emma fired.

"Except you aren't keeping up with your workload," Umbridge said in a simpering voice. "I've seen your desk, Miss Norwick, the papers are piling up."

"May I comment on that, Minister?" Arthur asked nervously. The Minister nodded. "I've seen the work that is being put on Emma's desk, and she deals with all of it well, but it seems that even things that are a closed book without her input are requiring a signature even if there is only a cursory relationship to Muggle objects." He glanced briefly at Emma before saying, "It is as if someone wants to overwhelm her. She works through everything in the timeline reasonably required to do so, but there is an unreasonable amount of work being put forth to her. Even the best of Ministry workers could not do as well as Emma, I believe."

No doubt, Albus had asked him to say this in the meeting. Otherwise, right-seeking man he was, Emma didn't think Arthur would have had the courage to stand up to his boss on her behalf.

"Interesting," Scrimgeour muttered, going through the file. "So it seems. And she makes more than satisfactory progress for someone in a department by herself." He looked up at Umbridge. "Do you have any reason why her desk is being artificially flooded, Dolores?"

Emma raised an eyebrow as Umbridge turned an unattractive shade of purple. Could it be that Scrimgeour was looking for reasons to deflate Umbridge from power somehow? She glanced over at Arthur, who seemed to be realizing what she was. They would have to report it to Albus later.

"I'll look into it, Minister," Umbridge squeaked.

They went through basics of the department after that with few interruptions from Madam Umbridge, which Emma was thankful for. Umbridge did have some objections when Emma said that she would need increased resources for her department, including at least a part-time worker to help her because she was already working more hours that was legally allowed for government work in order to get all of her reports and signatures in by their various and copious deadlines.

"We do not have the resources to add to her department," Umbridge argued. "Neither personnel nor the funds to hire further personnel."

"I'll look into it," the Minister said slowly. "Percy, make a note of it."

Percy scribbled quickly on the parchment in front of him, still eager to please. Emma watched her brother-in-law and fought the urge to slap him across the face for all he'd done, to their cause, to his family, to his own pathetic dignity.

But he wasn't worth it.

"If there's nothing else," Emma said softly, "I do have a rather large stack of papers on my desk, Minister. Assuming you have nothing further to discuss..."

"Yes, Miss Norwick," Scrimgeour said dismissively. "That will be all."

Emma said polite farewells to everyone in the room. She made her way back to her office, Arthur not far behind her.

"You did a very good job in there today," he said kindly. "Just keep your head up, dear, and I'll do what I can on my end."

"I'm going to send an owl tonight," Emma said slowly, hinting that it was for Albus. "Or do you want to do it?"

"Go ahead, dear," Arthur said softly. "I'll speak to Molly later tonight."

That of course, meant that he would talk with Albus at the Order meeting, so there would be no need to write a letter on his part.

Emma went to her desk a few minutes later, frantically going through reports and paperwork, not wanting to give Scrimgeour any excuses to cut her department. She'd done all she could thus far to ensure the continuation of her usefulness to the Order, but if she couldn't keep her department alive, there might not be anything anyone could do to keep her aboard at the Ministry without making it painfully obvious that she was essentially spying for Albus Dumbledore.

All she could do was work like she'd never worked before.

And so she did, and when she finished work for the day Emma cleaned up her desk as best as she could, gathered her things, and scribbled a quick letter to Albus, making sure it got to him before the meeting so he would know to bring it up in case Arthur forgot.

Her heart pounded as she delivered the letter, worried every moment that she'd run into Umbridge as she chose an owl to send it, but she got lucky and saw no one.

Emma then checked out of work, went home, and had a quick dinner with the twins.

"How was work?" Fred asked.

"It was fine," Emma told him. "The meeting went surprisingly well. Your father was splendid."

"How is Dad doing?" George asked, frowning. "I know he misses his old job, and that this one is taking a large toll on him-"

"I think he's happy regardless," Emma assured him. "And he's making quite a bit more money. I think he's grateful of that, especially with the world going the way it is."

The twins had offered their father to give a bit of money back to their parents every month, sort of an offering of thanks for raising them and helping out with Ron and Ginny, but Arthur wouldn't hear of it. Emma knew the twins felt better every time they were reminded of their father's pay raise, because it helped them think that they'd done enough in at least trying to provide that extra.

And maybe, if the Ministry collapsed, she thought wryly, it wouldn't matter who made what anymore.


	31. The Metamorph and the Werewolf

Christmastime was looming on the horizon, and Emma knew that they would have a semi-awkward time with the Weasleys. For one thing, apparently Hermione Granger had apparently fallen out with the boys and would not be visiting the Burrow, so the only female contact beyond her mother-in-law would be Ginny. Emma was all right with that, but the fact that Molly still didn't know about her marrying Fred would put her on edge.

"Relax," Fred said with a laugh. "Try to act like it's any other Christmas. You didn't mind Grimmauld Place."

"I had other things on my mind," Emma reminded him. "And we weren't married."

Fred could do little to argue with her, but he certainly did his best to comfort her.

"Relax, darling," he said with a grin. "We still have a week before you have to suffer through Christmas."

George overheard their conversation and piped in, "You know, Mum said Remus is going to be there."

Emma perked up, raising an eyebrow.

"Really?" she said happily, thinking it was going to be a set-up. "Is Tonks coming too?"

George's face fell slightly and he frowned, thinking.

"No, I don't think so," he said sadly. "I think she might have said if Tonks were going to be there."

"She probably invited her, though," Fred said helpfully. "You know Mum. She's a firm believer in those two being together, just like you. I suppose Tonks couldn't stand the thought of the awkwardness."

Emma began stroking the side of the plate she was holding thoughtfully, staring at the faucet of the sink. Perhaps she could change Tonks's mind. Of course, she would have to check with Molly first to make certain that an invitation was open to Tonks, but...

"Don't," Fred said firmly, taking the plate from her.

"Don't what?" Emma said, giving him her most innocent smile.

"Don't interfere," he warned her. "Supporting Tonks is one thing. I'll even let you throw a few hints at Remus while we're at the Burrow, but leave the proper conniving matchmaking to my mother, okay? I don't want what's free of your life to be consumed by plotting to get those two together. They're stubborn, love. It could take years."

"It better not take years," George said with a grin. "Mum would likely kill them by knocking their heads together too vigorously before then!"

The couple groaned, thinking that it was both a bad joke and a very, disturbingly real possibility.

"You don't think she's going to start pressuring us to marry again?" Emma said nervously.

Fred shrugged.

"I doubt it. I mean, we're still pretty young. Charlie's still not even got a girlfriend as far as we know. She's so focused on Tonks's love life, which is sweet of her really. I think she's a bit preoccupied."

"But what if she does?" Emma pressed, watching George put the pasta on the table.

"Then you tell her as delicately as possible that you're already married," George said in a rather somber, warning tone that sounded strange with his voice. "No, Fred, don't argue, you know I'm right. Hiding it from her at that point would be cruel. We both know she's probably not going to even think of it, but if it does come up, I think it might even help Emma put a bit of pressure on Remus."

"How so?" Emma asked, starting pointedly at a spot on the table that she was picking at, trying to decide if she could really handle Molly's horror that her son had eloped without even telling her right after the fact, or Merlin forbid, that her husband already knew.

Fred touched his hand to hers, stopping the picking motion before lacing his fingers in hers and squeezing her hand gently.

"I think he's right, love," Fred said softly. "I mean, think about it, Remus has a lot to be nervous about, but he knows that you and Tonks are close, and if you're not only one of Tonks's closest friends but also speaking from the standpoint of a wise newlywed -" Emma snorted "- you'll have a lot more to say than just that Tonks is miserable and they need each other. He's heard that all before."

Emma quirked an eyebrow at him.

"You _want_ us to tell your mother?"

"Merlin, no," he said quickly, his face flushing slightly. "I'm just saying that if it somehow did have to come all out in the open, at least this wouldn't be the worst time and place for it. I'm trying to find a silver lining, darling."

She just laughed at his very firm insistence that they not tell his mother and kissed his cheek, glad that he'd been so thoughtful about the whole thing, especially because she was still internally panicking. She still could hardly think of herself as Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, Merlin," she muttered, smacking her forehead. "Your mother's not going to expect us to bring something, is she?"

"She might be a bit offended if you did," George offered sheepishly.

"I wasn't thinking food necessarily," she replied with a frown. "Just...I dunno, something."

"Bring her a book," Fred teased. "Then she'll have no doubt whose idea it was."

Emma smacked him lightly, but he just laughed. He thought her sensibilities about manners were his mother was concerned were rather funny, but she didn't think there was anything funny about manners. She'd had proper etiquette drilled into her from a very young age.

Besides, Emma knew that Molly appreciated her well-bred but modest manners, and so Emma began to think about what she might pick up for Molly that the matriarch would like and use around the house to bring as a present. Whatever the boys thought, it wouldn't do to be rude, especially if they might end up having to break the news that she was married to Molly's son and just hadn't told her yet.

Perhaps two gifts, Emma mused, wincing slightly at the thought of what Molly might say or do when the truth all came out.

"Fred?" Emma asked later that evening when she was helping the boys go over their orders and make sure all the numbers matched up with their inventory.

"Yeah?"

"I know you say you do deliveries no questions asked, but maybe you should warn certain people."

Fred looked up at her in confusion, glancing down at the order list from Hogwarts for Wonder Witch products that she was holding.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just that Hermione mentioned in a letter that there's some Christmas party with dates and such," Emma said slowly, running her finger down the list. "And it looks like nearly every Gryffindor girl between the ages of thirteen and sixteen bought a love potion in the last week. Maybe you should warn Harry that he or one of his classmates is about to be drugged."

Fred considered for a moment.

"It's not illegal."

"Well, no-"

"And it's not dangerous."

She sighed.

"It is if they've got two or more potions slipped to them in the period of three days," Emma countered. "And if I'm right, an unsuspecting Harry might get poisoned if you don't say something."

Fred and George exchanged nervous looks, clearly trying to decide if warning Harry was against policy.

"Maybe if we write to Granger..."

"I'll do it right now," Emma said sharply. She got up, tossing the Wonder Witch list aside, gathering some fresh parchment, a quill, and ink and began scribbling a note to Hermione.

_Hermione,_

_ I hope this letter reaches you quickly and that all is still well. You're clever, so you may have already thought of this, but I've been going over the orders for the shop with the twins and I think that some people might be trying to use love potions on Harry for that party you told me about._

_ And by some, I mean dozens._

_ In Gryffindor alone._

_ Keep an eye out for him. Constant vigilance and all that. Good luck. Stay safe. Let me know if I have to box some ears on this end._

_ -Emma_

"George," Emma said firmly, "take this down to the owlery and get their quickest owl on it. I don't want an accident to happen because you were lazy."

George gave her an annoyed look, but he seemed to understand her nervousness, because he agreed and hurried off down to the alley to take care of the letter.

Emma sighed, curling up with Fred.

"Sorry about that," she said. "I just... I don't want to interfere with our business at all, but I also feel like Harry's had enough happen to him without-"

"I understand, Emma," Fred whispered, kissing her forehead. "And so does George. We'd be terrible friends, anyway, if we didn't warn Harry. And maybe you're right. Maybe we need to be more careful with the Wonder Witch orders. Or at least, the love potions."

Emma nodded, thinking of all the horrible things that could happen with the indiscriminate use of a love potion.

And then her eyes brightened.

"I've just had the best idea," she cooed, grinning at Fred as his face turned anxious.

"No."

"But-"

"You are not slipping Remus a love potion at Christmas."

"But they-"

"They're already in love, Emma, they just need to sort things out. We shouldn't interfere."

She raised her eyebrow again and he winced.

"Fred, you live to interfere."

"Emma-"

"Why make love potions in the first place if we can't use them for good?"

"Love potions when thought of as a joke product or used by silly teenagers are one thing," Fred warned. "Love potions used on people who already have intense feelings can have disastrous consequences. You know that."

She did know, but she didn't like the idea of just letting things work themselves out, even when Molly was so eagerly pushing the lovebirds together.

No, Emma mused, she really should keep her nose out of it, not think of drugging them, even if it was for their own good. She wondered if perhaps she should remind Fred of the fact that they had been drugged by well-meaning friends, and without it they might never have gotten together.

When she opened her mouth, though, he seemed to sense what she was going to say.

"_No_, Emma."

"But-"

"It's not the same thing as a love potion," he said, a bit more patiently. "And we'd have to force them into the same room for something other than an Order meeting, and I don't see that happening any time soon, do you?"

Emma nibbled on her lip.

"Perhaps if I just-"

"We're not writing to Tonks."

"I didn't say anything about you writing to her, darling."

"Emma."

Eventually, not long before George got back, Emma capitulated and Fred officially won, but in Emma's eyes the whole discussion wasn't over.

She simply needed a proper ally, that was all.

The question then became whether that ally would be George or Tien, or even someone else. Perhaps Molly would be interested in slipping things innocently into their tea. She'd be very good at it, Emma was certain.

As the wheels turned in Emma's mind the boys decided not to stop them, seeing that she was not stressing about Christmas with the Weasley family for the first time since December hit. They weren't about to spoil the moment, even if they would have to stop her plotting later.

"Right," Emma finally said with a forced smile. "Back to work."

She picked up the Wonder Witch papers again, flipping through them absently, but she didn't really read them as she had done before. She would check to ensure that things matched up, but she no longer took interest in who was ordering how much of what. Her mind was preoccupied with her plotting, and she felt exhilaratingly alive.

They went to bed that night all thinking of things deeply, but Emma could hardly sleep for thoughts of how to help Tonks be as happy as Emma was with Fred.

Emma went in to work the next morning and attacked her large stack of paperwork and there was a knock on the door.

"Enter," she said as cheerfully as she could, in case it was Umbridge. There was no reason to let the cow know how miserable she was.

"Good morning, Emma," Arthur said kindly, sitting down across from her. "I've got a surprisingly quiet day and thought I might pop in and check on you, see if I could help with some of your paperwork."

She sighed with relief.

"Yes, please," she said with a smile. "I've got six different cases of enchanted toenail clippers with so much paperwork I feel I'm swimming in it!"

"Toenail clippers," Arthur said with a bemused chuckle. "What will they think of next?"

Emma knew that he was half wondering himself what toenail clippers could be enchanted to do, which was probably precisely why he so eagerly grabbed the stack of papers she'd gestured to, sifting through them with a careful anxiousness.

This was where the twins had gotten it from. Their incurable curiosity, their desire to figure out how things work, to explore the possibilities of things, was a gift from their father.

"George tells me you're nervous about Christmas," Arthur said after a bit.

Emma gave a strained sort of snort of laughter.

"You could say that," she said slowly. "Molly won't press us, will she?"

"I doubt it," he said with a good-natured smile. It was comforting, that smile. "She's very much intent on working Remus up to asking Tonks on a date."

"Do you think he will?" Emma asked eagerly. "I mean, they're so perfect-"

"I don't think he will, no," Arthur said sadly. His smile was still there, but strained, and Emma felt the comforting feeling slip right out of the room. "He's very afraid, Emma."

Emma just frowned, flicking her quill into another round of signatures. She didn't understand what there was to be afraid of, not really, but Arthur must have sensed her confusion and decided to enlighten her.

"You still haven't told Molly that you're married."

She winced and Arthur laughed.

"You're afraid," he said softly. "Don't argue. You are. And the things you're afraid of, while very real, are temporary. Molly may very well be upset with the pair of you for keeping it from her, for eloping, but she is a hypocrite to do so and she'll forgive you when she's cooled off. She'll welcome you into the family with open arms." Emma smiled and shrugged. It was what she wanted, of course, but she was still afraid.

"Tonks," he continued, smiling at her gently, "has much bigger fears, and so does Remus. He's worried he'll make her into a pariah, that she'll lose a job she loves, that he can't give her things she wants like a nice house and a family. He's much older than her, and he's what many people, including himself at times, would call a monster. At best being with him would make her life difficult. At worst he might kill or bite her. Do you see?"

And for the first time, Emma did see. When she'd looked at Remus and Tonks, she'd seen what Tonks saw, their love for each other, the way they obviously suffered at being apart from each other, no matter how justified Remus thought he was. She saw the pain and the suffering of denying love, she felt how empty she'd felt thinking she'd never have Fred.

She hadn't seen how different their situations truly were. She hadn't realized just how much this decision was truly hurting Remus.

"But you think they will get together?" Emma asked softly, moving aside the papers she had been working on and turning to the next case.

"Oh, I think very probably," Arthur said, frowning at one particular point in the toenail clipper case. "Not right away, certainly. I think they both have things they need to think over and come to terms with. But love is love, Emma. You know that as well as I do. And those two, whatever else they may be, are in love."

Arthur finished up the toenail clipper case papers and went back to his own office, but he left Emma thinking the rest of the day.

Perhaps Fred was right about letting things work out without her help. Drugging them into sorting out their problems wouldn't necessarily be the wrong thing, but the more she thought about it, the more Emma thought it probably wasn't the right thing. She turned in massive stacks of papers to various departments before leaving for the night, still running through her mind the possible ways things could turn out for Remus and Tonks.

Emma was beginning to agree with Remus, though. No matter how much they loved each other, certain things might not be meant to be overcome. Perhaps despite their love, Remus and Tonks were better off this way.

She was feeling incredibly demoralized when she arrived back at the flat, Fred flipping through his notebook for the shop, frowning at it.

"Hello, love," he muttered. "Valerian."

"What about it?" she sighed, shrugging off her cloak.

"Can you use the stem in a potion?"

Emma frowned, thinking back to her school days, her copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_.

"Well, I suppose you could try it," she replied, sitting across from him wearily, trying to decide whether or not to talk out her thoughts about Remus and Tonks. "But I don't know that it would do anything. It's not poisonous, but..."

"Hmm," he muttered. "How was work?"

Emma hesitated, but finally she said, "Fine, lots of paperwork," and kissed his cheek, rubbing his shoulders for a mere moment before turning to start in on dinner, more to take her mind off things than anything else.

She would talk it through later. They had enough to think about without considering someone else's love life. Arthur was right. Things would work themselves out in time.


	32. Conflicted

If Emma had thought that her workload was physically impossible before, it was nothing on the actual workload created by the Christmas season. On top of well-meaning holiday pranks gone awry, there was actually a surprising increase in malicious misappropriation of Muggle artifacts during the holidays, and Emma was about ready to just quit altogether and say that someone else had to deal with all the mess.

She was sorting through her mound of paperwork after a long day of work when she received an owl that was rather cryptic.

She frowned, recognizing it as a Hogwarts school owl that she had used on many occasions due to its reliability. But who was going to be writing to her with a Hogwarts owl?

Emma slit open the envelope to see familiar, spiky handwriting written with urgent quickness that she did not know it possessed.

_EW,_

_ Potter will be suspicious of one Draco Malfoy. Ease his suspicions. Malfoy could not have bought the necklace. This is a lie, but it is important. Burn this letter._

_ S_

She turned over the heavy parchment in her hands, confused and bewildered. Severus Snape seemed almost desperate that she lie to Harry about Draco Malfoy, which could potentially put her in a difficult spot with Harry one day.

But Emma also knew that Severus Snape knew all of this when he wrote the letter, knew of what he was asking her to do, and she knew that he would not have done so had it not been absolutely essential. She picked up a new parchment and scribbled her hasty reply.

_SS_

_ Will see Harry at Christmas. Will do my best. Letter is being burned as the owl is leaving._

_ E_

She hoped that would satisfy him, and she did indeed burn the original letter as the owl flew off to deliver the reply. Emma waved her wand to douse the flames when all that remained was charred bits that she then cleaned from her desk with another wave of her wand. She rubbed her hands together thoughtfully. Something was bad about all of this. If Malfoy was under suspicion and Snape was having her lie, than that probably meant that he was the one who actually had purchased the necklace and that he'd purchased it from Borgin and Burke's and that he did, in fact, unintentionally harm Katie in the process of using her for transporting the necklace.

And yet, Emma thought as she flipped through the file she'd kept detailing the incident from an Auror's perspective, Draco Malfoy had been accused by Harry Potter at the time of the incident, and it was Professor McGonagall, not Snape, who gave him an out.

Draco had not been in Hogsmeade that day. He had, in actuality, been serving a detention with Professor McGonagall.

But that didn't mean, Emma realized, that he would have been completely incapable of orchestrating everything. Any number of people could have been doing Malfoy's bidding, willingly or unwillingly. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully.

Then Emma realized, just as she was about to pull an interdepartmental memo toward her to write to Tonks, encouraging her to question Madam Rosmerta again, this time about Draco Malfoy and perhaps Slytherin females that had come to the pub in the last month….

She had had promised Snape that she would drop the matter, and so she dropped her quill, staring at the memo, which was in the exact spot where the burned parchment had been.

Could she really drop the matter so easily, now that she had a lead? Katie needed to be avenged, didn't she?

But then, Emma reasoned, Katie was going to make a full recovery. She'd discussed this with several Healers who had been on Katie's case. It would take time, and would certainly not be before Christmas, but Katie Bell would be absolutely fine, if only a bit behind on schoolwork.

Emma pulled at her hair nervously, looking at the stack of work before her.

If Katie was going to be fine and Emma had promised to Severus Snape that she would drop the matter, was there any justification in pointing out this revelation to Tonks? Could she endanger Snape's trust?

She knew what the answer had to be, but she didn't like it. Emma pushed the memo away again, knowing that she would have to file this information away for later. Because there would come a time when Harry would likely find out about her lie, and she would need to think about what she was going to say in the meantime. Would she protect Snape, or would she throw him to the dogs?

It would probably depend on the circumstances, but she found that she kept running through scenarios in her head as she tried to think about her work.

Emma could not focus on the cases in front of her and she realized that she really needed to call it a night. With a sigh, she closed the files in front of her, stacked the cases on her desk in accordance with what stage they were in, and put a few in her bag to take home and work on if she had a spare moment before bed or when she woke in the morning. She then checked her calendar to see what she was doing the next day, found that she and Fred had actually managed to get the day off for a proper date day, and decided that she might have time to work on the files after all.

She turned off the light on her desk and locked up her office, going home as soon as she reached and Apparition point, and sneaking into her bedroom, sparing only a brief glance at Fred's peaceful sleeping before crawling into bed beside him and allowing him to immediately pull him to her and cuddle her in his sleep. Emma had only a brief moment of enjoying the comfort of his arms before her head hit the pillow and she almost instantly fell asleep.

When Fred woke her up the following morning with kisses she recalled that they had a date, a proper day to themselves, and she smiled, tangling her fingers in his soft hair as he kissed her jaw.

"Good morning, love," she sighed, still thinking about her dilemma from the night before. Perhaps she had made her decision, but Emma was sure that she would be plagued on whether or not it was the right one until she was proved one way or the other.

"You should shower while I make breakfast," he muttered. "Hogwarts students are off. George is whinging that I'm not in the shop with him today."

Emma giggled, nodding, kissing Fred gently before climbing out of bed and going off to take a shower.

She decided on a quick on, mostly because she didn't want to put off the date at all, partly because she'd already taken care of all the time-consuming things that showers were good for the day before. Emma was utterly prepared for the date.

Sneaking back into the bedroom to dress, Emma pulled on a knee-length gray skirt that flared, and a bright, robin's egg blue shirt. She smoothed her hair as she dried it with her wand, making sure not to mess up the delicate process. When it was finished, Emma put on a knit hat and contemplated gloves before deciding to instead paint her nails quickly, a pleasant shade of blue that was rather close to her shirt. Two quick waves of her wand and they were dried.

Emma considered herself in the mirror, examining her face. Finally, she decided to put on just a small dash of makeup and a bit of lip gloss. Fred didn't like her heavily made up, and she found she didn't much like herself that way, either.

When she was finished, she went out and ate breakfast with Fred, who spent the whole meal with his hand on her leg.

"Where are we going?" she asked as she took his hand.

"There's this spot," he said happily, "in this village on the coast. It's lovely. We used to go there on holiday when I was little. There's a teahouse and everything."

"It sounds nice," Emma admitted, bracing herself as he turned on his heal.

They landed in a place that looked like the countryside but smelled of sea air. It was a cow field, and he laced his fingers in hers, frowning at the gulls that squawked obnoxiously overhead.

"Not a long walk, I hope?" Emma asked, looking down at her feet to avoid stepping unpleasantly wrong.

"Not far, I promise," Fred said nervously, looking at the ground where she was stepping. "Sorry, I didn't think... I mean, when George and I came it..."

"Don't worry about it," Emma lied. "It's fine."

She wasn't Katie. She didn't have issues with getting dirty. Even Katie didn't exactly mind if it was for Quidditch. But Emma had her limits, and cow dung on her shoes during a date was not her idea of a good start to the day.

Thankfully, they arrived at the teahouse in Stanmer with no mishaps for Emma's shoes or hair (which was a miracle, considering the aggressiveness of the seagulls). They ordered cream tea and Fred and Emma sat together cozily, looking out the window at the adorable little village.

"I'm thinking next time I take you to Yardley," he muttered, kissing her cheek. "There's this beautiful cathedral and a cute little village..."

"Can we do that when it's not so cold up north?" Emma said with a smile, kissing his lips gently.

He laughed and agreed and the little tea woman served them tea and scones. They were utterly delicious scones, too, so perfect that Emma almost thought they had Molly Weasley beat, although she never would have said so in front of any Weasley. The cream, as well, was perhaps the most perfect clotted cream she'd ever had.

"How did you find this place?" she asked Fred, grinning as he licked a bit of jam from the corner of his mouth.

"We were getting some potions ingredients in Brighton," Fred explained, "and there's some great tea places there. But we thought we'd check out some of the villages because sometimes you get interesting peddlers. And we stopped here."

"And did you find your peddlers?" she asked, trying to hold her teacup properly in spite of the way his fingers were dancing along her thigh.

"Of course," he muttered, grinning at her.

She wouldn't have asked what it was they were after. Even where she was concerned, most of what they developed was top secret, especially now that they were dealing with the Ministry on contract. Even Tien had learned how to be tight-lipped.

The day proceeded in a lovely way, and they spent much of the afternoon by the seaside.

"We're going to the Burrow for a bit tomorrow," Fred said casually as he picked up a pebble from the beach and turned it over in his hand. "Are you coming?"

Emma nodded, taking the pebble from his hand and putting it down before he did something childish with it. She took his hand and led him down the beach, away from the crowds of people amassed around the pier.

"I'm a bit nervous about seeing your mother," she admitted. "But it's been too long since I really spent some time with your family."

"It'll be fine," Fred said bracingly. "She loves you, remember? Besides, Harry will be there, and he takes up most of her attention when he's around. He's much skinnier than you."

Emma raised her eyebrows at him in a way that was mildly threatening and he blanched.

"You know, I mean, he's unhealthily skinny and you're perfect, dear," Fred said quickly, but Emma just smirked at him.

"Whatever you say, dear," she said in her least believing voice, teasing him as she took his hand and brought them back to the flat for the night.

She decided to let him sweat it out.

The following day was a quiet one, and when the boys were done in the shop Emma had read two Muggle novels and had started the third.

"Time to go to the Burrow, love," Fred said happily. "With any luck, we'll catch Mum making the boys help with dinner!"

Apparently, Ginny had sent them a note and mentioned that Harry and Ron were peeling sprouts...with knives, the Muggle way, and the twins thought it was hilarious. Emma just rolled her eyes and took Fred's hand, being transported to the garden of the Burrow.

"Fred! George!" Molly said happily as the three of them walked toward the house. "Oh, Emma, you're so thin!"

Emma just smiled tightly as Fred sang her defenses.

"Oh, come on, Mum," Fred teased. "She's nowhere near as skinny for her size as Harry is! Emma's perfect."

"Harry is very skinny," Molly said darkly, closing the door behind them. "Mind you, not nearly as bad as when we get him at the end of the summers." She turned to Emma. "It's a wonder he's not dead! I don't know what those Muggles feed him, but it's nowhere near enough!"

She hadn't been close with him at the time, but Emma certainly recalled seeing Harry Potter his first year at the Sorting. She had only learned who he was a few years prior, and she had been surprised to find him to be, for lack of a better word, scrawny. Perhaps it was as simple as growing into himself and perhaps it was some combination of Hogwarts food and Quidditch, but while he was still very skinny he had gained a significant amount of height and muscle since starting Hogwarts and Emma would no longer deem him scrawny.

The three of them followed Molly into the Burrow, where Ron and Harry were indeed peeling sprouts for dinner.

"Bless their hearts," George said when his mother left the room, elbowing Fred in the side for effect. "Look at them, preparing food...the Muggle way."

Emma didn't want to point out that it was basically the same way George prepared most food, seeing as he'd never paid much attention to cooking spells. That, coupled with his short attention span, made for very, very poor meals when prepared by George.

"Well, why don't you come over here and do it, then?" Ron whined. "It would be done so much faster, and then we could have a round of Quidditch or-"

"In this weather?" Emma said stiffly. "Absolutely not. You'd all die of cold."

There was a pause in which Emma realized just how much like Molly Weasley she had just sounded and then she blushed and shook her head, and led Fred into the other room where Arthur was helping Ginny rearrange furniture.

"Hello, Emma," Arthur said happily. "Been surviving work I see."

"Barely," she said back with a grin. "Hello, Ginny. How's school going?"

"Well enough," Ginny replied with a shrug, grinning at Fred and Emma's entwined hands. "I see you two are still going strong, then."

Emma blushed, the conversation hitting a bit too close to the elopement for comfort. Fred, always the champion of dissipating awkward moments, kissed Emma sloppily on the cheek and said, "Yes, she's still putting up with me, angel that she is. Merlin knows why. Perhaps it's because she thinks I'm dashing."

They all laughed and Emma rolled her eyes.

"Yes, that's it," she said teasingly. "Dashing. That's the word."

When Arthur had shifted the last chair into place they all sat down.

When Harry and Ron had finished peeling sprouts, they sat down on a sofa near the chair Fred had insisted he and Emma share, mostly because he liked to see the strange shades of red and purple his parents turned every time they glanced at Emma sitting on Fred's lap. Harry, too, seemed to be turning strange colors, and Emma thought it was a tiny bit amusing as well.

"How's school, Harry?" she said cheerfully, making him look at her to keep with polite custom.

"Erm, fine," he muttered, blushing furiously as he tried to turn away. Alas for him, Fred had caught on.

"Been enjoying the new Potions guy?" Fred pressed. "Hermione's been sending letters. Apparently you've got a hidden talent?"

Of course, Hermione had also said that it was a textbook that was giving him all of the added boost in Potions, but they weren't about to say that in front of Arthur and Molly.

Harry just shrugged noncommittally and Ginny rolled her eyes at Ron, who was pouting at something vague in front of him.

Arthur, obviously seeing where this was going, decided to take the spotlight off Harry and bring it back to himself.

"Emma," he said politely. "I know you three are coming for Christmas Eve. Do you know if Tonks is coming? She's been a bit evasive."

Emma frowned slightly, shifting a little on Fred's lap.

She knew Tonks would not be coming, because Remus was coming, and she didn't want to see Remus, not until he came to his senses and stopped being so obtuse.

"Erm, I think she decided not to come, no," Emma said slowly, not looking at Molly.

"Is her family having her, then?" Molly asked anxiously.

They were all worried about Tonks, of course, and being alone on Christmas would only make her more upset.

But Emma simply shook her head, unable to truthfully give them the comfort they all craved in regards to the depressed Tonks.

"No," she admitted sheepishly. "Her parents are on a Muggle cruise. It was something her father always wanted to do, I guess. They've had it planned for ages."

There was no need to say the words that worried all of them as they sat there thinking about the issues of Remus and Tonks.

Tonks was going to be spending Christmas alone, depressed, and probably distressed that Remus was nowhere near her.

And Emma half-wished to box his ears for the pain he was causing them all.


	33. Christmas Eve

**A/N: Firstly, apologies for the extreme delay in updating this story. Real life took over, and some unforeseen technical issues arose, taking my life by the hair and dragging it around. Those issues have yet to be resolved, but I'm going to do my best to press forward on this story just in case. If there's another story of mine that you read and haven't had updated recently, feel free to pester me about that as well! I'll make a special note for it on my to-do list to ensure that it doesn't get overlooked in the chaos. Again, super-big apologies, and I hope you can all forgive me.**

** -C**

Christmas with the Weasleys meant celebrating over Christmas Eve, and then for family members (and Harry, Fleur, and Emma) staying the night, opening presents upon waking up, and having a large brunch the following morning. Emma had helped the Weasley brothers and Ginny decorate the Burrow for the party while Mrs. Weasley prepared the food. Fleur mostly sat in the corner torn between disgust and being charmed at how naïve everything was. She did seem to appreciate Bill and she took a liking to Emma, but the idea of Fleur having Molly Weasley as a mother-in-law made Emma want to laugh until she cried tears of hysteria.

Remus arrived with a large jug of butterbeer and chocolate for everyone not long after the decorations had finished going up.

"The place looks lovely," he told Molly earnestly. His eyes were tired, and he greeted Arthur with an almost limp handshake as Arthur arrived home from work.

"Let me take your cloak, Remus," Emma said, helping him unclasp it. His fingers looked frozen stiff. "How have you been? It seems ages since we last talked."

"As well as one can be in a war like this," Remus told her with a tired smile. "You look lovely, Emma. Kingsley tells me you're doing a beautiful job at the Ministry."

Emma blushed and shrugged.

"I do my best," she said. "Come on, let's get you settled."

Emma gave him a glass of eggnog and sat down with him by the fireplace, looking around the room. Molly had turned on the terrible annual special of Celestina Warbeck, Molly's favorite singer. "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love" was playing in the background, and Emma fought the urge to explode the wireless. The only thing that made her feel better was the knowledge George had shared with her that Lee was the one who had to sit there and broadcast the disaster. She could send him a joking nasty letter about it later.

The volume kept going up because Fleur kept trying to talk over the radio, clearly not interested in listening to the terrible music. Knowing that the radio was too loud for them to be noticed, Fred and George lured Ginny into a game of Exploding Snap in the other corner of the room. Ron was watching Bill and Fleur being romantic like some sort of strange stalker. And Remus, Remus was ignoring everything, staring at the fire, deep in some sort of thought. Emma thought about talking to him about Tonks, about anything, but Remus did not have many moments of quiet in his life, so she thought she'd let him enjoy this one for a bit longer.

The music hit a note that actually hurt Emma's ears and Molly tittered, "We danced to this when we were eighteen! Do you remember, Arthur?"

Much to Emma's amusement, Molly wiped her eyes on her knitting, and Arthur – who had begun to fall asleep over a satsuma he'd been peeling – jerked awake at the mention of his name.

"Oh, yes...marvelous tune..."

It was very clear that he'd determined what she must have said based on what was playing, and Emma covered her mouth to keep herself from giggling. She felt that she was watching a badly trained circus. From the look Harry shot her, he felt much the same. Arthur sat up a little straighter and turned to Emma and Harry, peeling his satsuma again.

"Sorry about this," he said in a voice low enough not to be heard over the music. "Be over soon."

"No problem," Harry said with a grin. "Has it been busy at the Ministry?"

"Very," Arthur said, nodding. "I wouldn't mind if we were getting anywhere, but most of what Emma does is busywork, and of the three arrests we've made in the last couple of months, I doubt that one of them is a genuine Death Eater – only don't repeat that, Harry."

Arthur finished suddenly quite awake and much more alert, and Emma raised her eyebrows at him, amused.

"The one thing we can say," she said, still smiling a little, "is that they're still holding Stan Shunpike, if that gives you more of a sense of what we're dealing with."

Harry looked astonished and Arthur nodded solemnly.

"I'm afraid so," he told Harry. "I know Dumbledore's tried appealing directly to Scrimgeour about Stan... I mean, anybody who has actually interviewed him agrees that he's about as much a Death Eater as this satsuma here...but the top levels want to look as though they're making some progress, and 'three arrests' sounds better than 'three mistaken arrests and releases'...but again, this is all top secret..."

"I won't say anything," Harry assured them, watching Arthur continue peeling the satsuma. The song changed to a ballad called "You Charmed the Heart Right out of Me" and Emma shifted, stoking the fire slightly. Then he continued, "Mr. Weasley, you know what I told you at the station when we were setting off for school?"

Emma raised her eyebrows and turned to Arthur, who blushed slightly. Apparently, this was something to do with the war effort, something that perhaps Arthur should have brought to the attention of others, but had not.

"What's this?" she asked. Harry looked a little uncomfortable, but clearly too eager to wait until she wasn't around.

"I checked, Harry," Arthur said, pretending not to hear her prompting. "I went and searched the Malfoys' house. There was nothing, either broken or whole, that shouldn't have been there."

"Yeah, I know, I saw in _The Prophet_ that you'd looked...but this is something different... Well, something more..."

Harry related to them a conversation between Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy that Emma had to admit to herself sounded a lot like exactly what Harry seemed to think it all was: Draco was doing something for the Death Eaters, perhaps as one of their number, and Severus Snape was trying to get him to accept help. Highly suspicious, especially with the letter she'd been given, the one she'd burned, but she'd made a promise, and she appreciated when Arthur came up with the logical explanation for it all:

"Don't you think, Harry, that it's equally plausible that Snape was offering this help to learn more about Malfoy's plan?"

Harry scowled at her slightly.

"Yeah, I thought you'd say that," Harry said. Likely, Hermione Granger had already said the same. "But how do we know?"

"It isn't our business to know," Remus said. Emma jumped, slightly startled at his sudden interjection into their conversation. She hadn't realized he'd been listening, but sometime between stoking the fire and the end of Harry's tale, he'd turned his back to the flames and was now facing into the little circle. "It's Dumbledore's business. Dumbledore trusts Severus, and that ought to be good enough for all of us."

"Besides," Emma pressed, "whatever you're thinking about the mess with Katie, I know Malfoy didn't buy the necklace. I've been following up on the case for the Auror office from a trade standpoint. I can assure you, Harry, that it's physically impossible for Draco or his mother to have bought that necklace."

She hated the lie, and Harry looked a bit skeptical, but he didn't argue, and that was something. He seemed more keen on the direction Remus had taken things.

"But just say – just say Dumbledore's wrong about Snape-"

"People have said it," Remus said with a small sort of nod, "many times. It comes down to whether or not you trust Dumbledore's judgment. I do; therefore, I trust Severus."

Emma only wished the world was that simple. She knew from June that Albus Dumbledore's judgment was far from flawless, or Sirius Black might still be alive. But on the other hand, she had to trust Severus Snape or she couldn't live with herself for dropping Katie's case.

"But Dumbledore makes mistakes. He says it himself. And you – do you honestly like Snape?"

At this, Emma laughed, nearly spilling her eggnog.

"Harry," she said, "the world is not that simple. If liking someone was a prerequisite for trusting them, I think a great many things would never get done."

Remus smiled a little.

"For my part, I neither like nor dislike Severus. No, Harry, I am speaking the truth. We shall never be bosom friends, perhaps; after all that happened between James and Sirius and Severus, there is too much bitterness there. But I do not forget that during the year I taught at Hogwarts, Severus made the Wolfsbane Potion for me every month, made it perfectly, so that I did not have to suffer as I usually do at the full moon."

Harry countered furiously, "But he 'accidentally let it slip that you were a werewolf, so you had to leave!"

Remus just shrugged, but Emma knew how Harry must be feeling and felt that he deserved some kind of explanation. She pressed, saying, "Harry, eventually that was going to come out into the open anyway. Hermione may be uncommonly clever, but she wouldn't have been the last student to discover the signs, especially in a class that studies werewolves for a whole chapter. Eventually, he would have had to leave anyway. Considering how badly we all know Severus wanted that job, it was actually very big of him not to do worse. Wolfsbane is a very complicated potion. He could have easily killed Remus and made it look like an accident. He chose to help instead."

Determined not to budge, Harry offered a new solution: "Maybe he didn't dare mess with the potion with Dumbledore watching him!"

Shaking his head, Remus smiled. "You are determined to hate him, Harry," he said. "And I understand; with James as your father, with Sirius as your godfather, you have inherited an old prejudice. By all means tell Dumbledore what you have told Arthur and Emma and me, but do not expect him to share your view of the matter; do not even expect him to be surprised by what you tell him. It might have been on Dumbledore's orders that Severus questioned Draco."

If Harry had planned to say more on that subject, it was cut off by the horrific end of Celestina Warbeck's song, punctuated with violent applause from the broadcast site that Molly dropped her knitting to eagerly partake in.

Fleur perked up at the applause.

"Eez eet over?" she asked loudly. "Thank goodness, what an 'orrible-"

"Who wants a nightcap?" Arthur said loudly, with a sudden rush of vigor. Emma snickered into her hand again. "Anyone for more eggnog?"

"How have things been working on your end lately, Remus?" Emma pressed, now that she had his attention and Arthur was moving for the kitchen. There was no point letting the conversation fall back into talk of Draco Malfoy. "What have you been up to?"

"Well, as you know," he said, stretching his legs in front of him, "I've been underground. Almost literally. That's why I haven't been able to write, Harry; sending letters to you, or really anyone, would have been something of a giveaway."

Harry frowned and sat forward.

"What do you mean?"

"He's been...living with an unstable minority population," Emma said delicately, in case Ginny or Ron were listening. She wasn't sure how much they were allowed to know, not being Harry. When Harry didn't seem to understand, Remus smiled and threw him a bone.

"Werewolves," he explained. "Nearly all of them are on Voldemort's side. Dumbledore wanted a spy and here I was...ready-made." Emma even started at the bitterness in his voice, and when Remus noticed her reaction he smiled a bit a softened his tone as he continued, "I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than I? However, it has been difficult, gaining their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on the margins, stealing – and sometimes killing – to eat. When Emma says minority, she is being kind."

"How come they like Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"Well, Harry," Emma said, stretching out, "if you needed to steal or kill to eat, you'd be looking for a way to overthrow an unjust system as well. And Voldemort makes attractive offers about a better life to fringe groups, through the likes of Greyback-"

"Who's Greyback?"

"You haven't heard of him?" Emma watched Remus clench his hands slightly in his lap as he spoke, not looking either of them in the eye. "Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive today. He regards it as his mission in life to bite and to contaminate as many people as possible; he wants to create enough werewolves to overcome the wizards. Voldemort has promised him prey in return for his services. Greyback specializes in children... Bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards. Voldemort has threatened to unleash him upon people's sons and daughters; it is a threat that usually produces good results." He licked his lips and looked at the fire for a moment. "It was Greyback who bit me."

Emma blinked, shocked.

"I never knew that," she said softly, suddenly realizing exactly how hard it was for Remus to be in love with Tonks, how hard it was to do his Order mission, to have a constant reminder of why he shouldn't be with her.

"Yes. My father had offended him. I did not know, for a very long time, the identity of the werewolf who had attacked me; I even felt pity for him, thinking that he had had no control, knowing by then how it felt to transform. But Greyback is not like that. At the full moon, he positions himself close to victims, ensuring that he is near enough to strike. He plans it all. And this is the man Voldemort is using to marshal the werewolves. I cannot pretend that my particular brand of reasoned argument is making much headway against Greyback's insistence that we werewolves deserve blood, that we ought to revenge ourselves on normal people."

Emma felt sick to her stomach.

"But you are normal!" Harry insisted. "You've just got a – a problem-"

Remus's laugh was startling, particularly because she hadn't heard it in so long. When he laughed, his eyes lit up and the lines on his face changed and he looked ten years younger, almost his proper age. When he laughed, she could see easily how Tonks had fallen in love with him. If only he could laugh in the mirror, if he could see how perfect they would look together, laughing.

"Sometimes you remind me a lot of James," Remus said, the laughter gone but his face still smiling and youthful. "He called it my 'furry little problem' in company. Many people were under the impression that I owned a badly behaved rabbit."

Arthur had returned with fresh eggnog, which he handed to the three of them, sitting down with his own glass. Emma quietly thanked him, taking a sip and looking over at Fred, who was winning the game of Exploding Snap. He glanced up at her and grinned, gesturing that she'd gotten a bit of foam on her lip, winking, and returning to his game. She wiped her lip as Harry asked, "Have you ever heard of someone called the Half-Blood Prince?"

"The Half-Blood what?" she asked, unsure if she'd heard him right.

"Prince."

He sounded very excited, but Remus looked very amused.

"There are no Wizarding princes," he said. "Is this a title you're thinking of adopting? I should have thought being 'the Chosen One' would be enough."

"Remus," Emma said, shaking her head, chiding him slightly. She could recall clearly how much Harry had hated being called The Boy Who Lived at school, and she was certain he wasn't taking much better to his new title, although the vindication must have felt nice.

"It's nothing to do with me!" Harry said, a little indignantly, his neck going slightly pink. "The Half-Blood Prince is someone who used to go to Hogwarts, I have his old Potions book. He wrote spells all over it, spells he invented. One of them was _Levicorpus_-"

"Oh, that one had a great vogue during my time at Hogwarts," Remus said, going a bit misty-eyed. Emma had never even heard of it. "There were a few months in my fifth year where you couldn't move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle."

She snorted, trying to picture such a spell being used frequently, no doubt by teenaged boys wanting to look at girls' knickers. Remus gave her a knowing smile.

"That sounds terrible," she said. "I hope you didn't use such a thing on any unsuspecting ladies, Remus."

He flushed a little and shook his head, looking down at his eggnog.

"My dad used it," Harry said, in a forced-casual tone. "I saw him in the Pensieve. He used it on Snape."

Remus shifted his knowing smile over to Harry, and Emma hid hers by taking another drink of eggnog.

"Yes," Remus said kindly, "but he wasn't the only one. As I say, it was very popular... You know how these spells come and go..."

"It sounds like it was created while you were there, though," Emma said thoughtfully. Sure, there were a few spells in vogue while she'd been in school, but most of the ones she knew were things like spells for a better-holding curl for your hair. Nothing so crude as this spell sounded.

"Not necessarily. Jinxes go in and out of fashion like everything else." At Harry's slight disappointment, Remus said, "James was a pureblood, Harry, and I promise you, he never asked us to call him 'Prince.'"

At Remus dropping the veil for him, Harry said, "And it wasn't Sirius? Or you?"

"Now that's even less likely," Emma said. "Sirius was pureblooded too, remember? And Remus just said he'd never used it."

Harry looked a little deflated.

"Oh," he said, looking over at the fire. "I just thought – well, he's helped me a lot in Potions classes, the Prince has."

"How old is this book, Harry?" Remus asked.

Emma took another drink of eggnog.

"I dunno, I've never checked."

"Well, perhaps that will give you some clue as to when the Prince was at Hogwarts."

Not even moments later, Fleur began to copy Celestina Warbeck's "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love" and everyone decided this was the perfect cue to get some sleep. Emma saw Remus to the door and said, "You know, Tonks-"

"Emma, please," Remus sighed, clasping his cloak. "It has been very lovely to see you, and I'm glad that you're doing well, and that you're keeping an eye on her, but please don't get tangled up in this mess. You'll only end up disappointed for taking an interest."

She gave him a rueful smile and said, "It's a bit late for that, Remus. Just...let me say that she's very unhappy. And I know you feel that this is what's best for her, but sometimes...sometimes safest isn't best." She frowned. "If Sirius hadn't been confined to what was safest, and someone thought of his happiness once in a while, maybe he'd still be alive."

"Emma, that's hardly-"

"They've both got Black blood, Remus," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Just...think on it. I'm not asking more of you."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes, obviously not wanting her to see that it hurt him to know Tonks was in pain because of him, but he hugged her and said, "Happy Christmas, Emma. I'll think. I can't promise you more than that. But know...I think about her all the time anyway. I really do."


	34. Christmas

Emma woke up to Fred kissing her face softly, and running his fingertips through her hair. Her eyelids fluttered open to the dimly lit room that she knew instinctively wasn't their bedroom. Only when George made a groaning sound and sat up on a nearby bed with a loud squeak did she recall that they were at the Burrow, and that it was Christmas morning.

"Happy Christmas, my love," Fred whispered when he saw that she was awake. "Are you cold?"

"No," she sighed, leaning her head back to let him kiss her neck. "This quilt is lovely warm."

There had apparently been a bit of a row about where Emma was meant to sleep while at the Burrow for the night. Molly hadn't thought it proper for her to share a room with Fred, obviously because she didn't know that they were married, but Arthur had intervened on their behalf. As he pointed out, they shared a room every night anyway, and George would be with them. It wasn't as though anything improper would happen with George in the room.

To everyone's surprise (and Bill's annoyance, since he was not allowed to share a room with his fiancee), Molly gave in.

"If you two are done being sappy," George said with a yawn, "we have presents."

At this, Emma sat up, ignoring Fred's puppy-dog pout, and pulled the stocking hanging off her side of the bed up onto her lap. A surprising number of presents were inside, and Fred seemed to have decided that it wasn't worth fighting, grabbing for his own stocking.

The first thing she opened was from Ginny. She and Luna had crafted Emma some jewelry: a necklace and matching earrings of Charm-formed crystal in the shape of daisies. The work was incredibly impressive for a couple of fifth-year girls, especially that they would have time to do such a thing with O.W.L.s hanging over their heads. Hermione had gotten Emma a book on the history of magical appropriation of Muggle items and methods which was disgustingly thick. Tonks had bought Emma a set of lingerie, the attached note simply being a picture of Tonks winking at up from the photograph. Harry and all the Weasley brothers had gifted varying amounts and types of chocolate. Fleur had given her a designer set of blue silk robes that looked more expensive than anything Emma had ever owned.

Arthur and Molly had given her the traditional gift of homemade fudge and treacle, and some extra-special toffees along with her Christmas jumper. The blue was both perfect for a Ravenclaw and a lovely shade for her eyes. She pulled it on over her pajamas, feeling the lovely warmth of the slightly-lumpy knit of a woman distracted by far too many things to make every sweater perfectly. It even had a letter on it, a beautiful bronze-ish E.

"Lovely," Fred said, kissing her cheek. "You look like a proper Weasley now."

"I hope Mum didn't give one to that prat again." George's voice was thick and muffled through the jumper he was pulling over his head.

Emma kissed Fred's cheek and pushed the quilt off to compensate for the warmth of the addition to her outfit. She then reached for the final gift in her stocking.

It was neatly wrapped, and she felt compelled to open it with gentle care. Inside was a small box and a note. She read the note first.

_Emma,_

_ It seems far more than four years since I was your teacher. You have grown into a self-assured, brilliant, and beautiful young woman that I could never have anticipated would grow out of the shy young teenager you had been. The beauty, perhaps, I could have foreseen, but I am pleased that you are confident in a way I would not have guessed. Perhaps I am annoyed that this confidence has been turned on me, but I will try to be gracious._

_ Sirius adored you, and it is a shame that he cannot see how wonderful you have become. He would be immensely proud, likely give himself most of the credit, and would spoil you immensely for the pleasure of being a part of your transformation._

_ Speaking of transformation, I think that you might find this interesting, and perhaps someday, useful. It was difficult for me to decide who Sirius would want to have it more, you or Harry, but since Harry has received many gifts from Sirius's youth and has one gift in particular that will aid him in disguise just as well, I have decided to give it to you. I don't think Harry has the diligence or bookishness required to really make use of it._

_ If you do decide to use it, use it wisely._

_ Happy Christmas._

_ -Remus_

Emma carefully lifted the lid off the box and saw a book, which was not what she was expecting. There were no words on the cover, no pictures or designs or anything. It was a heavy, black leather bound tome with very old parchment pages. She carefully lifted it out of the box, but the rest of the leather was as nondescript as the front cover.

But then she opened it to read the title page: _The Turtletower Method to Self-Transfiguration_. The title was not one she recognized, and there was no author to give her clues on its credibility, but there were small scribbles of notes in handwriting she could easily identify as that of a young Sirius Black, notes on Animagus transfiguration.

This, she realized, was the key to their Animagus achievement, and Remus had gifted her something so powerful, so rare, so dangerous. Perhaps, when she had time to herself to practice the steps, she would make use of it. Being an Order member, it might come in handy to be able to even partially transform.

"Shall we check in on the others, then?" George asked, startling her out of her reverie. "I'm anxious to see what Ronnie's girlfriend got him for Christmas."

The boys tossed back and forth all sort of ridiculous ideas, everything from furry handcuffs to a large brew of love potion. Whatever it was, Emma figured it was probably not good, from what she recalled of Lavender Brown, and from what Hermione had written about the girl's behavior.

Emma pulled her hair into a ponytail while the boys hurried upstairs to check on Ron and Harry. She changed into a modest pair of jeans she'd brought along, and pulled on the jumper over a plain t-shirt of Fred's she'd brought as an option to sleep in.

As soon as she finished putting on her clothes, however, she felt the pull of the Turtletower book and she licked her lips, deciding that no one would be terribly offended if she didn't surface for a few more minutes.

Quickly, she crawled onto the bed and pulled the book toward her, flipping through the table of contents. Unsurprisingly, Emma was very familiar with books. And this book was set up with all the typical logic of a how-to book. It was just long, elaborate, and very particular. Some of the word usage and spell suggestions were archaic, which she could tell from simply scanning it, but she was determined to follow it to the letter if she chose to use it. Human Transfiguration, as McGonagall had impressed them with regularly, was not something to be toyed with. Wizards far more clever than Emma had damaged themselves beyond repair by trying to tinker with proven methods.

"Emma?" Fred poked his head in and Emma snapped the book shut, only a few pages into the section on the history of Animagus transformation and research.

"Yes?" she asked, shoving it under her stack of gifts.

He smirked at her.

"Really, love? It's a family holiday and you've got your nose in a book. Typical Ravenclaw."

Emma sniffed.

"It was a gift from Remus."

"I know."

"I wish you wouldn't stereotype me."

Her voice had a bit more bite in it than she'd meant, and Fred frowned slightly, taken aback. Then a slow grin developed on his face.

"Ah, I see what this is about," he said, moving into the room. Emma frowned up at him, curious. He stood in front of her and lifted her hands to his lips, pressing a warm kiss on them. "You, my love, are not a typical Ravenclaw." Emma raised her eyebrows and he kissed her hands again. "You are a spectacular Ravenclaw." _Kiss._ "Remarkable Ravenclaw." _Kiss._ "Perfect Ravenclaw." _Kiss._ "Sexy, brilliant, wonderful Ravenclaw."

Emma giggled as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, still holding her hands. Then he pulled her to her feet and kissed her, first slowly, but with building passion and aggression. Emma's legs were beginning to melt beneath her when George barged into the room and they jumped apart.

He chuckled.

"You two really can't wait one day, can you? Always shagging like little bunnies. Anyway, Emma, Mum wants a hand with lunch, if you can spare your hands from my brother's trousers."

Fred snorted in amusement, and Emma didn't bother protesting before rushing downstairs, feeling her face still flushed from the excitement of being with Fred and the rush of being caught, even if it was just George.

"Guess what," Ginny said as Emma came to the kitchen. "I overheard Ron and Harry opening their presents." Emma smiled, leave it to Ginny to spy on her brother and Harry. "Apparently Lavender's given Ron some awful necklace. Too bad he's not likely to wear it."

Emma shrugged, rolling up the sleeves slightly on her Weasley jumper.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she makes him wear it at school. Girls like that can be very pushy."

Her mind flashed back to Alicia, the way she constantly through herself at Fred. If Ron were a bit more self-confident perhaps he could have avoided this Lavender, held out for someone he really wanted. But then, if he'd been more self-confident he wouldn't have been Ron.

Molly was stirring a sauce and Arthur and Remus were sitting at the table, drinking tea, chatting about something.

"Oh, Emma, that shade of blue is perfect," Molly said happily. "I was worried it wouldn't be quite right, but Arthur said I was being silly."

"It's a lovely jumper," Emma said happily. "I doubt if I practiced my whole life that I would ever be able to knit something so lovely. Much less about a dozen of them every year."

Molly flushed and said airily how it was really nothing at all, and Emma noted that she was already wearing the hat and necklace she and the boys had picked out.

"You both look very lovely," Arthur said from the table, smiling at his wife and daugther-in-law with his kindliest smile. Remus was also smiling a little, something Emma hadn't seen him do in such a very long time. Not since Sirius died, she thought.

"Thank you, Arthur. What is it you need me to do, Molly?"

They managed to get everything set up on the very long table in supposedly record time, and when they all settled down at the table, Emma found herself across from Fleur, between Fred and Remus.

"Everything looks lovely, ladies," Arthur said, smiling at them, rubbing his glasses on his collar and setting them back on his nose. "How you can make such delightful meals in so little time I will never know."

Emma knew he was flattering his wife to make up for Fleur's behavior the night before, but Molly seemed well recovered simply from presents and a good night of sleep. As it happened, it did not escape Emma's notice that Fleur was the only one not wearing Weasley sweaters. Not that she thought Fleur would have donned one happily, but still.

Harry was blinking at Molly's new hat and necklace, and Molly must have caught his gaze because she said, "Fred, George, and Emma gave them to me, aren't they beautiful?"

"Well, we find we appreciate you more and more, Mum, now that we're washing our own socks," George said with a wave of his hand. "Parsnips, Remus?"

"Harry, you've got a maggot in your hair," Ginny said happily, as if that were the most normal thing in the world, and she reached over to pick it out. Emma smirked down at her plate after seeing Harry's neck turn just slightly pink at this gesture.

"'Ow 'orrible," Fleur said, shuddering with a bit of force. Emma raised her eyebrows as Ron jumped to attention at the sound of her voice.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" he said. "Gravy, Fleur?"

To everyone's horror, Ron hurried to pass her the gravy, which went flying as he upturned the boat. Bill reacted quickly, flicking his wand, causing the flying gravy to return to the boat gracefully. Fleur kissed Bill in thanks and then laughed at Ron, saying, "You are as bad as zat Tonks. She is always knocking-"

"I invited dear Tonks to come along today," Molly said over Fleur, and Emma let her eyes dart over to Remus, who was studiously stirring his tea. Molly put down the carrots rather forcefully and glared at Fleur. "But she wouldn't come. Have you spoken to her lately, Remus?"

"No, I haven't been in touch with anybody very much," he said casually, still stirring his tea. "But Tonks has got her own family to go to, doesn't she?"

Emma knew that Tonks's parents were going to be in France for Christmas, but she didn't want to push him, make him feel guilty. Molly was doing splendidly with that all on her own.

"Hmm, maybe," Molly said skeptically. "I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually."

To Emma's surprise, Harry then chimed in, saying, "Tonks's Patronus has changed its form. Snape said so anyway. I didn't know that could happen. Why would your Patronus change?"

She bit her lip a little to keep from laughing. The way Harry asked it was completely artless. He had no idea the mechanisms he'd just stepped into, and Remus took especially long chewing his turkey. He avoided Emma's eye as she looked at him expectantly, obviously trying to find a way not to put his foot in it completely in front of Emma and Molly.

"Sometimes...a great shock...an emotional upheaval..."

Fred put his hand on Emma's as she caught Remus's eye and opened her mouth to say something that she would no doubt regret when she was less angry at Remus. Before she could shake him off and continue anyway, Harry continued.

"It looked big and it had four legs." He then had a sudden look of recognition and began to say something that suggested he'd had a thought, but he was cut off by a sudden gasp of Molly's.

"Arthur!" she cried, standing, moving toward the window with her hand pressed over her breast. Emma turned to see if she could get a look out the window, but George's head was in the way. "Arthur – it's Percy!"

"What?"

Arthur turned around from his spot at the end of the table to get a glimpse out the window, and Emma actually stiffened in her seat. Did Percy know she was dating Fred? Would this reflect poorly on her in the Minister's eyes?

Others were crowding around the window to get a better look.

"Arthur – he's with the Minister!"

Emma almost felt her heart stop, and Remus gave her a significant look. She nodded, quickly pushing her plate in front of Fleur, who caught on quickly and set it on top of her own clean plate while Emma ducked under the table, holding Fred's legs. Remus got up quickly to move the chair off to the side, then scooting his own over to fill the fairly noticeable gap.

Perhaps they couldn't fire her for her love life, but it was the sort of thing that would stick to her record in the future, when the Weasleys might be even less in public favor.

A moment after Remus reached down and grasped Emma's hand comfortingly, the back door opened and Lydia could hear two sets of footsteps on the wood floor followed by painfully awkward silence.

"Merry Christmas, Mother."

There was nothing loving in Percy's voice, but Emma bit her tongue to keep from screaming. Molly Weasley was so desperate to have her son back that she would have heard anything he said in that moment as loving reconciliation.

"Oh, Percy!"

Emma dug her fingernails into Fred's thigh and Remus's hand. Both seemed to take this well, and Remus even gave her hand a little squeeze.

The familiar voice of Rufus Scrimgeour – lies and all – then said, "You must forgive this intrusion. Percy and I were in the vicinity – working, you know – and he couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all."

Translation, he cooked up a scheme for some reason to get himself into their house over the Christmas holidays. It didn't take much for Emma to guess who he was after. There was an awkward pause and Emma could feel Fred tensing under her touch. Finally, a flustered Molly broke the silence.

"Please, come in, sit down, Minister! Have a little purkey or some tooding... I mean-"

"No, no, my dear Molly," Scrimgeour said kindly, and Emma held in a snort. He'd been planning this a while, obviously, if he bothered to learn her name before. I don't want to intrude, wouldn't be here at all if Percy didn't want to see you all so badly..."

"Oh, Perce!" Molly tittered tearfully.

"...We've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you, I don't want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden... Ah, that young man's finished, why doesn't he take a stroll with me?"

Emma dug her fingers in again, not needing to see to know who Scrimgeour was gesturing at. Even down to the fact that he pretended not to know Harry's name, it was a sloppy artifice, and the temperature of the room seemed to drop by degrees in an instant. Remus had even risen slightly from his seat.

Harry, though Harry didn't seem afraid.

"Yeah, all right," he said from the other side of Remus. He got to his feet and saying very softly, "It's fine." He passed closer to the door and she heard him say fine again, a little bit louder.

Albus had been keeping Harry from Scrimgeour for a reason, and Emma knew why: Scrimgeour wanted Harry to be a poster-boy for the Ministry, supporting their efforts in the war. Not that she thought Harry would be interested, but he didn't need to deal with this stupidity.

"Wonderful!" Scrimgeour said as Harry came to the door. "We'll just take a turn around the garden and Percy and I'll be off. Carry on, everyone!"

Emma heard the door closed, curled herself more tightly so as not to make noise underneath the table, and held her breath, waiting for something to explode above her.


	35. Out in the World

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to new reader/reviewer **_**leafstone**_**. May you enjoy it as much as the previous chapters which enticed you to this story!**

** -C**

As could have been reasonably expected, Percy made a muck of things and broke his mother's heart all over again, and Harry refused to be Scrimgeour's puppet, and life went on much as it had been. The students went back to school. The employed went back to work. Fleur and Molly went back to driving each other mad.

And as far as Emma could make out, Remus went back to the werewolves, went back to a world where Tonks was not in the picture.

"But he does love her," Tien said as the two girls lunched one day. "That's fairly obvious. In my experience, such things do tend to work themselves out in the end."

"And what experience do you have, then?" Emma said with a laugh.

"You and your freckle-faced husband."

Emma hissed to quiet her friend, glancing around the pub to see if anyone they knew was nearby, but there was not a familiar face to be seen.

"That was different," she said, smoothing her hair and frowning at her bottle of butterbeer. "You happened to take that into your own hands. Nothing worked out by itself."

Tien just laughed for a moment before she said, "Well, you had me and Georgie. Tonks and Lupin have you and Molly Weasley. I expect that the two of you will eventually find a way to sort the whole mess out. Yes, I know Fred has asked you to stay out of it, but I also know you. You'll find a way in the end. An opportunity will present itself."

Emma hoped that her friend was right, but it was very discouraging, seeing Tonks at work looking like death. And what with a war on, she wasn't especially fond with manners of speaking, like "in the end," when very many people were constantly meeting their ends.

"So," Emma said, perking up and lifting her bottle once more. "Tell me more about the changes you're thinking of for the Day-Dream charm."

While Tien never crossed the boundaries of confidentiality, even with Emma, she was always eager to talk about what parts of work she was allowed to talk about. Anything to do with the special Ministry line was off-limits.

The girls talked for quite a while and then went their separate ways, Tien back to Diagon Alley and Emma back to the Ministry. When she arrived she began speeding through the more basic paperwork on her desk, eager to get to things that mattered.

Not that much came across her desk that mattered. The only thing that really meant anything to her or to the Order, it seemed, was the unfinished report sitting at the bottom of her bottom drawer on the necklace Katie touched. And every time she thought of it, as promised to Snape, she dutifully pushed it out of her mind.

But Katie was still in hospital, and Emma knew that whatever was going on at Hogwarts, it had to do with Draco Malfoy and Snape and Dumbledore alike were trying to keep it quiet.

Emma pondered Remus's words to Harry, about it all coming down to whether or not you trusted Albus Dumbledore's judgment. Remus seemed to, which did him some credit. After all, Dumbledore had given him the right to go to Hogwarts, given him a job when he was destitute. He gave Remus a purpose for his lycanthropy in his Order work.

But although Emma had joined the Order, although she was under Dumbledore's instruction, she couldn't help but think of Sirius, think of how much he suffered because Dumbledore didn't support him during the post-war period, because Dumbledore cooped him up in Grimmauld Place knowing that he would go mad in that house. If there was one thing she did have a hard time trusting, it was Dumbledore's judgment, not of Snape, but of the way to treat people. The situation with Katie's health was a strange one for Emma, and she ran her thumb along the edge of her desk wondering if there wasn't some way to look into the matter without breaking her promise to Snape.

But in the end she could think of nothing, and Arthur knocked on her door, poking his head in, distracting her from the impossibly difficult situation.

"Do you have a minute?" he asked. "I wanted to chat and run a few things by you."

Emma smiled, waving in her father-in-law and clearing the part of her desk between them so that they didn't have a massive stack of papers in the way.

"What's on your mind, Arthur?"

He sighed, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

"Having you and the twins for Christmas was an absolute pleasure, Emma. I hope you know that. Things have been very tense with Molly and Fleur, as I'm sure you've noticed, and Molly takes every opportunity to harass Remus. I've told her that he knows perfectly well what she's up to, but she doesn't seem to care." He began tapping his fingers on the desk. "Anyway, I want to apologize for...Christmas morning luncheon. I know that can't have been comfortable for you. At least you weren't sprayed by the parsnips, I suppose. There's something."

Emma laughed and said, "No, Arthur, it's really fine. Unexpected things happen. I certainly enjoyed spending more time at the Burrow, in spite of Celestina Warbeck. I suppose that's something I will have to get used to." Arthur gave an apologetic smile and she continued, "Now, what was it you wanted to ask me about?"

"Ah, yes," he said, lifting a couple of files. "I had a few Muggle-related questions I need to throw your way for a case on the use of tarot."

"Tarot? The cards?"

"Yes, there's a fraud trying to tell people if they're going to die in the war," Arthur said darkly.

Emma shook her head and leaned forward for a better look at the file. It never ended.

/-/

After work, Emma took a couple of files with her to Hogsmeade for a few hours at the Three Broomsticks before heading back to the shop. She didn't feel like sitting in the flat alone, and she the boys weren't closing for some time yet. She didn't wan to get in the way, either.

To her surprise, however, she saw Snape sitting in a corner by himself when she walked into the Three Broomsticks, and after a moment of hesitation, she summoned all her courage and walked right up to his table, feeling as though she'd taken leave of her senses.

"May I join you, professor?" she asked.

Snape looked up at her with a blank face, gripping his drink tightly, simply staring at her. He seemed to be weighing her motive, but as he didn't immediately shoo her away, Emma decided it was safe to sit down. She slid onto the seat across from him and glanced around the room.

"Do you come into the village often?" she asked, forced casual. "I would have thought you wouldn't like to be in such a noisy place."

He raised an eyebrow slightly and said, "What has Albus been teaching you young ones? Noisy places are the best place to be alone, or to hold a private conversation. Everyone is minding their own business, and those who aren't are less likely to hear you above the noise."

"Sirius mentioned that," Emma said, letting her thumb pick at a small divot in the table. Snape's face went cold at the mention of Sirius, but she wasn't about to let that stop her. "Professor, something is coming, isn't it? Something that we won't be told about. Should I...should I be worried?"

The only clue she had that he had softened a bit toward her was the fact that his eyebrow lowered again. His stare remained otherwise blank.

"Being worried is healthy in times like this," he said darkly. "A little bit of fear might save your life. Of course, what good is one life if the world goes to hell?"

Emma actually sat back in the chair a bit, moving away from him instinctively at this bitter outburst. He hadn't said it in a way that was cruel or threatening, but the words alone made her uneasy, and Snape could say anything with a tone of utter boredom and still have it be unnerving.

"I'm not afraid of dying," she said honestly. "I'm afraid of dying poorly, and I'm afraid of what would happen to the people I love if I were gone."

He raised his eyebrow once more, picking up his drink and smirking at her slightly.

"You continue to surprise me, Mrs. Weasley," he said softly, his black eyes darting around the room to see if they were being watched. "Perhaps you should have been a Gryffindor like your husband after all."

"Perhaps I'm not the only one," she said, and she could have swallowed her own tongue with the look he gave her.

To say she had come into her own since joining the Order, since marrying Fred, since working for the Ministry, would have been an understatement. This teacher who used to reduce her to tears in nearly every lesson was now looking at her like he didn't know who she was anymore.

Some days, Emma didn't know who she was anymore, either.

"I see you've brought work with you," he said, not even looking at her satchel, where he obviously knew she had files. "Nothing you want me to look at I hope."

"Of course not," Emma said, raising an eyebrow. "I would never bring work to you unless I had to. I know you've got a lot on your plate."

"More than you know," he muttered, taking a long pull from his drink while she watched.

She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was wrong. If it had been anyone else, she would have said so, would have asked. But even if this hadn't been Snape specifically, the mere fact that he knew so many things he could tell no one kept her from asking. Instead, she waited for him to say more, knowing he would only say what he felt he could in front of her.

When he set down his glass he frowned and said, "There are many things, Mrs. Weasley, that I cannot tell you, or anyone else. And there are many things I can tell that I never would. For your own safety there is much you merely have to take at my word. Although you trust me now, Merlin knows why, there will undoubtedly come a day when your faith in me will be shaken." Emma sat up a bit straighter, wondering what he was about to impart to her. She felt very important, having him say this to her. It almost felt like the talks she'd once had with Sirius. "But whatever comes, know that you can trust me. I... I will not be able to tell you why, or explain anything, but it is imperative that you trust me regardless."

Emma tilted her head.

"For my own safety?"

He gave her a wry smirk.

"No, Mrs. Weasley. I promised not to lie to you. The very fact that I'm telling you this much puts you in a unique kind of danger. No, for the good of the war. After all, I will need someone, just one person, who trusts me. And who better than the one person no one would expect to be my...oh, accomplice of sorts?"

Emma narrowed her eyes and nodded, but before she could press him for more, he stood, nodding a brisk parting, and walking out of the pub without another word. She couldn't tell if she was doing the right thing, or making a deal with the devil.

When she checked her watch, however, she realized that it was about five minutes to closing and the boys would be eager to have dinner soon. If she took too long getting back they would start to worry, so she got a bottle of butterbeer to go, stuck it in her satchel carefully, and Disapparated back to Diagon Alley, six steps from the door to the shop.

Fred greeted her with a kiss on the cheek as he was counting the profits for the day.

"Good day at work?" he asked as she pulled out the butterbeer and opened it.

"Yes, not bad," she sighed, sitting on the stool behind the counter, watching him count. "A lot of signing things and a chat with your father. Stopped for a drink on the way home."

"I can see that," he teased, leaning forward with his mouth open. Emma rolled her eyes, but she poured a bit of butterbeer into his mouth before continuing to sip her beverage. He was such a child, sometimes. "Well, we had a pretty good day here. Tien's really tearing it up with product improvements. Our sales are up by fifteen percent since she introduced the new wave of adjustments."

Emma spent that night listening to the boys, secretly turning over Snape's words in her mind, half-hoping that if she just ruminated over them long and hard enough, everything would suddenly become clear. But that was the child in her talking. Emma knew well enough that anything Snape had told her would only become clear when something big happened, likely something terrible from the sound of things.

Grateful though she was to have the following day off, Emma didn't like having to be alone with her thoughts. A nightmare that faded too fast upon waking jolted her out of sleep well before Fred was awake, and she kissed his forehead before crawling out of his arms, out of bed, and showering quickly. She dressed, dried her hair, and set about making breakfast for the twins to try to take her mind off of Snape's words, to make her hands stop shaking.

She'd just put the kettle on when George came out of his room rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, stretching the other arm out in that just-woke-up way. Fred did that, sometimes.

"Morning," he sighed, sitting down at the table and looking up at her with a sleepy smile as she set a plate of bacon in front of him. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep," she said, quickly taking the kettle off the heat and pouring George a cup of tea. "You know how it is, with the war and all. Nightmares... Anyway, busy day expected today?"

George shrugged, stirring a bit of milk into his tea while she poured her own.

"It's hard to gauge. The holidays are over, so things will probably calm down a bit with students back at school and starting a fresh term. Winter's not a bad time for pranks, but it's a limited month for money for most students. They've spent all their allowance on gifts and sweets and they're having to conserve a bit while they recover from the holiday season."

Emma shook her head. Sometimes it truly amazed her, what savvy businessmen the twins had become, George especially. Inventing and creating the products was one thing, but to have both the creativity to do that and the sensibility to do the marketing and daily economic considerations was more than could be asked for from most men.

"Do you think business will pick up when the war is over?" she asked, picking up her tea cup in both hands to feel the heat against her fingers. "I mean, business is surprisingly good for wartime. But people will want cheering up when it's all over and safe again, won't they?"

George shrugged.

"It's not surprising. People want cheering up now. That's why it's so good. And when the war is over, we won't likely have the Ministry contracts. Everything will have to be joke-based. But we'll also have a more free environment to focus and develop new material. I think it'll all be all right, but I'm not sure we're going to have it any better necessarily."

Emma nodded. They sipped their tea in silence and Emma watched George eat toast and bacon. She asked if he wanted eggs and set to frying up eggs and potatoes in anticipation of Fred's waking up, which would happen any time in the next ten minutes.

"Emma?" George asked as she began putting the eggs and potatoes on a plate.

"Mmm?"

"When are you two going to finally announce that you're married? You're not going to wait until the war's done, right? Because what if it goes on for years? What if...what if you spend the next ten years pretending to just live together because the war's not over?" Emma chewed on the inside of her cheek anxiously. "What if something happens to one of you?"

"We're legally married, George. The paperwork would kick in regardless."

"That's not my point," he said darkly. "If you don't tell my mother, if you don't get a chance, how do you think she'll feel, finding out from paperwork and her husband that you were actually her daughter-in-law for however long? Look, I'm not saying drop everything and tell her as soon as possible. It's obviously a decision you and Fred are going to have to make balancing a lot of things. But...don't wait too long. Don't forget that nothing is guaranteed."

Emma nodded, turning the words over in her mind both as they regarded her own situation, and as possible things to point out to Remus the next time she had an opportunity to intercede on Tonks's behalf.

The thoughts were interrupted, however, by Fred coming out of the bedroom, stretching just like George, and George and Emma both greeted Fred, dropping the topic altogether.


	36. Order

No matter how many times she sat there, being at the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with Sirius dead and gone still felt wrong to Emma. The Order members all around her seemed equally uneasy there, perhaps because of the fate Sirius came to, perhaps because the legal binding of the house to Harry seemed uncertain. Emma stood at the china cabinet to avoid sitting at the table, although staring at stylized painted renditions of the Black family crest all over the plates and bowls and such didn't make her feel much better about being in the room.

"He wouldn't want you to associate this place with him," Remus said softly in her ear. "He didn't think of it as home."

"No," Emma whispered in agreement. "It was a prison. Out of one cage and into the next." She licked her lips. "Sometimes I wonder if any of it is really doing any good."

"Now, he definitely wouldn't want you to say that," Remus said with a slightly hollow, tired laugh. "If there was anything Sirius believed in, even after Azkaban, it was that fighting this war was all that mattered. Even if all we accomplish is delaying the inevitable, it's worth it."

Before Emma could admit that she knew he was right, there was the sound of Albus Dumbledore clearing his throat politely to draw people out of their individual conversations. Those still standing sat at the long table, and Emma glanced down the length to where Snape was sitting in a back corner next to Minerva McGonagall.

"Thank you all for coming today."

As he went on discussing the basics in the news and how it related to the Order, Emma noted how much weaker Albus Dumbledore was looking. This man who had always seemed so youthful, invincible, looked very much mortal.

He kept his black hand covered by the long, bell sleeve of his robes, but Emma could picture it perfectly. Something so horrific burned its image onto the mind, she felt as though she could see it just by knowing it was there. Just the knowledge of it was distracting.

"Now, to the Ministry," she heard Albus say, looking right at her, perhaps knowing that she hadn't been paying attention to the meeting. "Kingsley, what's going on with the Muggle Prime Minister?"

Emma did perk up a bit at this, recalling her parents. Sometimes she got so caught up in her day-to-day that she forgot how the war was tearing through the Muggle world, forgot to worry about her parents, even forgot that they still didn't know she was married, either. She hadn't spoken to them since leaving Hogwarts, for their own protection. She glanced down the table to see Remus pointedly ignoring the way Tonks was staring at him.

Maybe that was why he wouldn't write her. Maybe Remus was doing with Tonks what Emma was doing with her parents: he loved her so much that he had to push her away. But with Emma, it was until the war was over. With Remus, his demons never went away.

"Things are as bleak as they are everywhere," Kingsley said softly. "But thankfully no more than that." He glanced around the room. "I can say that I've been checking up specifically on Muggle relatives of Order members recently. All the ones I know of are safe."

Emma breathed a sigh of relief that must have been louder than she'd intended, because several faces turned to look at her, including Molly's pitying eyes. She swallowed and held her head up a bit higher.

"Excellent," Albus said softly. "Tonks, what is the state of the Auror office?"

Remus tensed at the mention of Tonks's name, and Tonks actually jumped a bit at being called on. Faces turned to her, and she shrank back in her seat slightly. Emma imagine that there was pity in her own eyes.

"Bad," Tonks finally said. "Probably not much worse than anywhere else, but we're pretty utterly pitiful. Ineffectual. Scrimgeour's focusing on the wrong things, as can be expected, and we don't have the resources for all his publicity goose chases and then also doing the right thing."

Arthur cleared his throat.

"Its the same thing for myself and Emma," he said. "We're focused on straws we can get a grasp on, when what we should be trying to do is follow smoke to fire and put out the actual flames." Tonks nodded. "Three arrests, not a one of them a genuine Death Eater if I know anything about my job at all."

"But we already knew there was no getting through to Scrimgeour," Kingsley said reasonably. "Not while he's surrounding himself with the likes of Umbridge and P-"

He cut off and gave Molly and Arthur a nervous look.

Percy. Umbridge and Percy.

Molly did stiffen. It was a bit too soon since the disaster of Christmas morning. Emma, though, didn't think it was entirely fair to consider Percy as a part of the problem. He was a complication, of course. His involvement with the Ministry put the rest of the Weasleys in a more than awkward situation, but Percy was not Umbridge. His lust for power blinded him a bit, but Emma knew that underneath his nativity, he was still a good boy. He had always had a good heart, just like every other Weasley.

"Yes, and he approached Harry, as we know," Albus said darkly. "I am not surprised that he did it, but I expected him to try in a less obvious way." He paused. "Emma, you were at the Burrow for Christmas, were you not?"

"Yes, but I hid under the table," she said, blushing a little. Dedalus snickered and Remus gave her a small smile. "They don't know...know that I..."

Her words spluttered out and she looked down at her hands.

Didn't know that she was a Weasley. But hardly anyone knew she was a Weasley.

Dinner was after the meeting, and to her surprise Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape both stayed for dinner, which was rare for them. Emma stuck by the china cabinet, taking a plate from Fleur with a word of thanks before turning back to stare at the crest that told her how unworthy she was: _Toujours Pur_.

The Muggeborn who married into a pureblooded family stretching back as long as anyone could trace. According to Sirius's ancestors, she and any offspring she would produce were abominations.

And then it hit her.

Emma turned and caught Remus's eye, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head, telling him that she wanted to talk alone. In the chaos, nobody noticed them slipping into the pantry and closing the door.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "You look...upset."

Bless Tien and the years of asking Emma to pretend to be the victim of her roasts for practice monologuing.

"It's just...this house is..." She bit her lip, organizing her thoughts, capitalizing Remus's pity. "_Toujours Pur_."

Remus winced.

"Ah," he sighed. "Emma, you're a very bright girl. You're confident. You're practical. You know that you're as good as anyone in that room." She gave him her most uneasy look and he sighed, putting his hands on her shoulders. "You are, Emma. You're fully worthy to be sitting in this house, no matter what your blood is."

"I'm not good enough to be an Auror," she pointed out.

He smiled, shaking his head.

"There are all sorts of talent," he said. "Even in magic. And Tonks is..." His face darkened slightly, but he continued. "Tonks is a half-blood, remember."

"A half-blood with Black blood," Emma argued.

"If blood really made any difference," Remus said, "then Neville Longbottom and Ron would have been better students than Harry and Hermione, and Severus wouldn't have such a high position in either the Order or the Death Eaters. He is a half-blood, after all."

Emma could have laughed, but she still had more to press.

"Fred's family..."

"Love you," Remus said kindly. "And he loves you, and that's all that matters. I think Arthur loves you all the more for your blood, if that's possible, and it makes you uniquely qualified for a very important job." She couldn't help it at that point. She began to laugh. Remus's face went instantly to confusion and he asked what was so funny.

"Remus, you know that the very same people who say I'm not worth anything are the ones who tell you that you're a monster."

His amber eyes grew dark and he shook his head, taking a step back.

"That's completely different, Emma."

"How so?" she pressed. "You're just as capable of magic as anyone else, as you've proven brilliantly for years. You've saved so many lives in the Order. You're a brilliant teacher. And you're one of the kindest people in the world, and that counts for more than the rest of it combined."

"I know this is about Tonks," he said, dropping his voice even lower. Emma raised a challenging eyebrow, and he said, "It's not like you and Fred. I could actually hurt her. Her reputation-"

"She wears her hair pink and falls all over herself on a regular basis," Emma retorted. "I really don't think she could give any less care to her reputation. And before you go saying anything about her father, Ted Tonks braved the Black family for love. I don't think he'd care about his daughter braving a few nights alone a month for love."

"It's not the same!" he insisted, his voice raising slightly in frustration. "It's just not the same!"

"You haven't said how," Emma pressed. "All you've done is tell me the same thing over and over. If it's so different, how is it different?"

Remus shook his head and paced to the far end of the pantry, obviously looking for words. After a long silence he said, "You and Fred are young and in love. You've known each other all your lives. There are no dark secrets. The most complicated thing in your lives is the war, and that's something that we all hope is temporary." He sucked in a sharp breath. "But what I am, maybe attitudes will change, but the condition never will. Even with the potion – which I won't have, because it's expensive and difficult to brew – I can't give her... I'm an old man, Emma. Age aside, I am an old man. And she's a young, vibrant woman." Emma opened her mouth to argue that she wasn't vibrant with her heart broken, but he raised a hand and she quieted. "And...and I can't give her children or a proper place to live or anything. She could lose her job, and she loves being an Auror."

Emma knew all of these things. She'd ruminated over them, trying to find a whole to poke at him through, and she'd been so certain she'd found it by pointing out similarities between the Muggleborn issue and his own condition. She was so sure. But she realized Remus, the ever-rational one, wasn't being rational about this. Because he was in love and afraid. And nothing made people through rationale to the wind like love and fear, and Emma knew better than most how crippling they could be combined.

Suddenly, Tien's offer to drug them was seeming more and more attractive by the minute.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I still think you're wrong, though."

Remus shook his head, gave her a sad smile and said, "It's all right, Emma. I appreciate you're honest about it, unlike Molly. It's refreshing that you can actually say what you're trying to say instead of berating me about it from an angle over tea."

After dinner, people began to file out, making their ways in ones and twos back to their homes, and Fred was helping his mother do the dishes, which Emma only had a moment to watch appreciatively before she heard someone clearing their throat behind her.

It was Snape.

"Professor," she said, frowning. "I thought you'd left already."

He said nothing, watching her for a moment before going up the stairs to the main part of the house. She glanced around the kitchen to make sure no one was watching, but even Albus Dumbledore was looking the other way and she slipped upstairs after him. In the sitting room, surrounded by the faces of the Black Family Tree, he looked out the window to the street down below.

"Strange," he said softly, his baritone voice filling the room in a strange way as she closed the door behind her. "Strange that the Blacks would raise their sons in a Muggle street such as this. I was raised in a Muggle neighborhood as well, in an equally foul house." Emma stopped in the middle of the room. "Smaller, though. Much smaller."

"Perhaps you were more alike than you realized," she said softly, nervous about where this could be going.

He turned around with a billowing swiftness that was surprisingly sharp and she took a single step back, proud of herself that she didn't stumble at all.

"Here I thought you were moderately clever," he said softly. His soft voice was more terrifying than yelling, the way she felt about her father growing up. If his voice got too quiet, she'd done something awful.

No surprises here what she had done. Comparing Snape to Sirius was a good way to get herself cursed, and she was actually surprised he hadn't done anything worse to her.

"I'll assume you didn't ask me to follow you all the way up here to give me opportunity to insult you," she said. "Nor for me to give you opportunity to insult me. What is it you needed to say?"

He turned slowly back toward the window and placed a hand on the sill.

"Soon enough," he said deliberately, "this house will become compromised."

Emma tensed. Why was he telling her instead of Dumbledore, instead of the rest of the Order? Perhaps he'd already told Dumbledore and Moody and they were working on securing it. Perhaps they didn't want people to panic.

But still.

"And why are you telling me?" she asked. "It's Harry's house. Not mine."

His lips twisted into a sort of smirk and he did not look at her. Instead he stared as a car went by on the street below before saying, "I know that there are still things here that likely mean something to you. Take them soon, before it's too late. You wouldn't want to forget them in a scramble."

Things of Sirius's.

She would have to think about what she might want, and of course ask Harry first, but she thought it was surprisingly thoughtful of Snape to give her that sort of warning. Whatever it was he thought he was going to eventually need from her, it was something huge. That was the only explanation: he wanted her to do something that she perhaps would be very opposed to doing. Or that would put her in danger. Or both.

"I assume," she said slowly, "that I'm not allowed to mention this to anyone."

"I recommend you grab things Lupin would want as well," he said, answering her question in his own way.

If she were to tell Remus this so soon, it would draw some sort of suspicion on her, likely, and she didn't want someone clever like Remus to think she was doing something suspect. Especially when he had experience with traitors.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Is that all?"

Snape turned to look at her with his fathomless black eyes and he just stared at her for a moment. Then he said, "You've done a good job of keeping unnoticed at the Ministry. Stay that way. The last thing you want is for everyone to know your name. And your parentage."

She said nothing, a shiver going down her spine as she thought of what she'd just said to Remus in the pantry. She'd been trying to goad him, but what if...?

Emma would not have asked him for clarification anyway, but before she would even have had a chance to, Snape had swept out of the room and she knew that minutes later he would be out the door and gone. She didn't bother looking out the window to see him Disapparate.

She walked over to the wall, touching her fingertips to the burn mark that once had Sirius's face in it's place. What would that have been like, having parents who would rather you not exist than take a path they didn't chose for you? Her parents would certainly have never chosen for her to be a witch, to be caught up in a war they couldn't possibly fight and didn't understand, to not be speaking to them for their own safety.

But she knew without their saying that they were proud of her and loved her anyway.

She traced the line of the tree out through Sirius's mother, across to his aunt and uncle, down to another such burn mark. If it had been any other family, Tonks would have been just below that mark. Emma had no such history in her family, and from what she gathered from Remus, he didn't either. If she traced her fingers along the right lines, there were Weasleys somewhere back on the line. Most of them were probably not on the tree, blood traitors that they were, but they belonged there even more than Tonks, as purebloods.

Standing in that room, feeling the weight of history on her chest, she decided perhaps she would wait on asking Tien for something to drug Remus with. In that moment, she understood his fears just a little bit better.


	37. Rush

There were still a few stragglers in the kitchen when Emma returned, and Dumbledore was one of them, watching her with knowing eyes. He asked to talk with her briefly before he left, and she felt nervous. Had Snape told her something she wasn't supposed to know?

"Severus seems to trust you a great deal," Dumbledore said, the two of them standing on the front porch of number twelve, watching a couple of young Muggle children play in the little park in the cul-de-sac. "I haven't seen him take so quickly to someone in years."

"Quick isn't a word I would use," Emma said, swallowing as one of the children fell off his toy tricycle. "After all, I spent seven years of school trying to make him at least tolerate me, to no avail. If you're going to ask why it is he trusts me, professor, I can't give you an answer. All I know is that he appreciates that I trust him. I don't know if you've noticed, but even in the Order, there aren't many people who do."

"No," Dumbledore said with a nod. She could feel him looking at her, but she didn't want to look at him. She focused on the crying child. When he looked her in the eye, she felt like he could read her very soul, and it was unnerving. "I have given Harry a very important but difficult task, and when he accomplishes it, I fear I will have to give him another."

Emma nodded.

"He's very young," she said softly.

"So are you, my dear."

"But I guess he's been doing this for a while," she said, thinking back to the stories of Quirrell and Harry fighting beneath the school, the whispers that he defeated a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny Weasley. If any sixteen-year-old could fight a war, it was Harry Potter.

Dumbledore tapped the fingers of his healthy hand on the railing and said, "I have a bit of a job for you as well, Emma." He pulled a small scroll out of his pocket, and she saw that inside the scroll were at least two more scrolls more tightly rolled. "Do you know where they keep the records of family trees at the Ministry?"

Emma nodded.

"They're-"

"No, no, don't tell me," Albus Dumbledore said. "I'm sure you know. Find a way to get in. Change the records in these scrolls to match these scrolls. These are...amended versions. I have a feeling that things at the Ministry will take a very sharp turn in the future, and I want to protect certain members of the Order."

Emma licked her lips and unrolled one of the scrolls to see her own name, her own family tree, but instead of her mother's maiden name being Jones, it was some name she'd never seen before, and the tree went back changed three generations.

"Sir?"

"In the eyes of the law, Emma, you will no longer be Muggle-born, but half-blood," Albus said gently.

"It also says my mother's dead."

"As Kingsley told you, your mother is alive and perfectly well. He's already tinkering with the Muggle side of records. Do you think you can do this?"

She wondered who the other names were, but if Dumbledore thought it was important to make sure she was half-blood legally, then she supposed it must be important. She could always change it back when the war was over.

"I can," she said. "Do the other people know?"

"They will be made aware."

Emma nodded, slipping the parchment rolls into her sleeve, already planning a way to get the job done unnoticed, because as Severus said, she shouldn't be drawing attention to herself in times like these. Why, she didn't know, but if she was doing something so illegal, that was really all the incentive she needed.

"Professor?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"What happened to your hand?"

He was smiling at the children, whose mother had come out with plasters and rubbing alcohol. He didn't look at her, and he unconsciously touched the sleeve-covered arm with a gentle motion.

"Don't trouble yourself with things like that, Emma," he said kindly. "I assure you, there is nothing you can do for my arm, and it's nothing you need worry yourself over. I dare say you have enough on your plate for worrying, what with the war and Remus and Tonks."

She jerked her head back slightly in surprise, but he just chuckled at her. He said a quick word of parting, turned on his heel, and he was gone before she could say another word. Emma stared at the empty spot for a moment, then looked up at where the mother and children were, who started and were looking over at her.

"I hope someone gets that car looked at," she said loudly to the mother, with a nervous laugh. "Sounds like a terrible backfire, doesn't it?"

The mother nodded slowly before turning back to her child's wounds. Emma hurried back into number twelve as quickly as possible so that nobody noticed her going into a house that didn't visibly exist.

"There you are, love," Fred said, kissing her cheek as she nearly tripped over the very troll-foot umbrella stand that Tonks always hit. "Ready to go?"

Emma nodded, letting Fred help her with her coat, careful to keep from squishing the parchment rolls in her sleeve. She kissed his cheek and took his hand, saying a quiet good-bye to his family – even George was sticking around for a bit longer – before taking Fred's hand and letting him Disapparate them back to Diagon Alley.

"What did Dumbledore want to talk about, love?" Fred asked when they got back to the flat, helping her with her coat off again.

"Oh, just something about work," she said breezily. "Nothing, really."

The following morning at the Ministry, Emma took a bit of time before going to her desk. She made a detour to the Auror office, where she saw Tonks bent over her desk, reading a report with bleary eyes. Emma sat down on her friend's desk and said, "Close your door, we need to discuss something private."

Tonks jerked her head up, confused.

"About the Bell case?"

Emma hesitated. No, it wasn't about Katie at all, but she couldn't say that. It was the only open case she was still technically doing legwork for the Auror department on. But then, she didn't want to lie, either.

"Its...related."

For all she knew, it was. Tonks ushered her in, closed the door, and nodded, pressing her ear momentarily to the door to make sure nobody was obviously listening.

"I need you to help me," Emma said. "I need you to give me a reason to access birth records."

Tonks tilted her head questioningly. Emma mouthed Dumbledore's name. The parchment in her sleeve felt unnaturally hot and heavy on her skin.

"Right," Tonks muttered, tapping her chin. She then leaned over her desk, picked up a quill, and scribbled down a few names. "If anyone asks you," she muttered as she signed the bottom, "you're working on the Bell case, and I've asked you to track down the heritage of some suspect names we're chasing. We...think Muggles might be involved and we want to tread lightly?"

"Works for me," Emma said, smiling at Tonks and gazing at the list of names that she was ninety percent certain her friend made up on the spot. "You feeling okay after yesterday?"

"Fine," Tonks lied. "Just peachy." She gave Emma a weak smile and said, "I know he's safe, right? So...everything's okay. For now. He looked at me. That's something, if something small."

Emma tried to make her smile as non-pitying as possible, and she gave Tonks a clap on the shoulder before saying, "I certainly hope so. I've got to get to this, but maybe you can clear some space in your schedule for lunch sometime?"

"Not today," Tonks said with a frown. "I've got a Hogsmeade patrol today. I'll let you know."

Emma thanked Tonks again and made her way as quickly as possible to the Hall of Records, which held every official document on a person, and copies of pertinent Muggle records. For people like Sirius Black, it had prison records, an official statement of his innocence, and probably plenty of other things she didn't know about. Whenever an office opened an inquiry on a person, their file was pulled, and any added investigative information was added to it as the inquiry went along. Emma waved at the man at the door, flashed the note Tonks had given her at him quickly, and hurried into the room, heart pounding.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

Emma looked down the first aisle and saw a woman with a large stack of files on it smiling up at her.

"Oh, no," Emma said, smiling back, gripping the list of fake names in her hand. "It's a pretty straightforward system, right? Year of birth and then alphabetical? I've got a list. You look pretty tied up with that stack, I'll call if I need help with something."

"All right, then, ma'am. Just let me know."

Emma nodded, heading for her own year of birth first, since she hadn't looked at the other names yet.

She searched through the line for the N's, looking for where Norwick ought to be, but to her shock, there wasn't a file there. For a fleeting moment she thought that perhaps the lady had her file, or that someone had taken it out of the office and they were already investigating her, but then the almost-obvious and terrifying answer hit her. She glanced down the aisle and licked her lips before she found the W's. She traced her finger up the Wi's, to the We's, Weasley, George, Weasley, Fred, and then she saw herself: Weasley, Emma.

Her file had been changed when she and Fred married. She pulled out the file and saw the marriage license right on top. At least she knew that all oft heir affairs would be in order legally, in case something did happen in the war. She flipped to the back of her file, past a couple of inquiries when she applied for the post at the Ministry, recommendations, test scores...

There it was. Her lineage. Emma licked her lips and pulled the scrolls out of her sleeve, unrolling the outermost one and quickly changing the one in her file to match it. On a typical piece of parchment, this would be the matter of a moment, but Ministry parchments were resistant to changes, so she had to use powerful spells and a lot of patience. Finally, though, her lineage matched the sheet she'd been given, and she put her file away before Vanishing the sheet Dumbledore had given her.

Emma then pulled out the scrolls and unrolled the next one in slowly, looking for the name.

Her heart began to pound when she saw Lee Jordan's name at the bottom. She'd quite forgotten that he was Muggle-born as well.

She changed his lineage sheet, as well as the sheet of a young Healer a couple of years older than them that Emma had only met twice, and then she thanked the woman putting away files on her way out and went to work, her sleeve empty.

"Did you find everything you were looking for?" the guard asked.

"Yes, thank you," she said happily. "I think I know where to go now."

He nodded at her, and she could fee her heart pounding all the way back to her office.

She had done it. She had succeeded in a proper Order mission. And it felt intoxicating.

Almost four weeks later, Lee dropped by in the middle of Emma's day off. The twins had let him up into the flat, and he sat down to tea with Emma.

"I suppose they had your lineage changed too?" he said, not looking at her.

Emma decided not to tell him that she was the one who physically changed the records. She had a feeling she wasn't supposed to say.

"Yes, they did," she said, stirring in sugar. "Apparently, my mother's a witch now."

She laughed weakly, but Lee didn't seem amused. He was still staring at his tea, almost sullenly.

"Lee, what's the matter?"

He shrugged, and stared at his tea moment longer before finally looking up at her.

"Don't take this wrong," he said, "but doesn't it feel like...giving up a bit? Lying about who we are, about our blood, doesn't it prove them right? Doesn't it say that those things do matter?"

Emma began to tap her fingers on the table.

"Lee," she said slowly, "think of it like a Muggle spy film. We're undercover. By a few lies now, we're making it so that those things won't have to matter for everyone else when we win. Someone has to make sacrifices now so that no one has to make them when the war is over."

"I didn't sign up to be a spy, Emma. I signed up to fight a war. To be a soldier."

She shivered slightly, thinking about Sirius's war stories, the battles, the blood, the horrific curses the Death Eaters didn't even think about twice before using.

"Be grateful, Lee," she said softly. "Your skills are more valuable this way, so this is how you fight, just like I'm fighting by getting information and shifting information around. I know what you mean, because sometimes, I want to fight too, but it's not a game. We do what we have to do to win."

Before Lee could reply, however, the door to the flat burst open and George strode in.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, not sounding the least bit sorry. "I need to have a word with Emma. Go check out the new sweets, Lee, Tien's been improving them."

Lee looked startled, but he knew better than to argue with George, so he left his untouched tea and scurried out of the flat, closing the door behind him.

Emma got up to make George a cup of tea, more out of habit than anything else, but he stopped her, looking at her with his head tilted to the side.

"Did I hear you right, Emma? Did you say you want to be out there fighting?"

She sucked in a slow breath. There was a reason she hadn't mentioned any aspect of her mission to Fred, and it wasn't because she'd done anything dangerous, but because she knew he wouldn't feel right about the thrill she'd gotten from doing a mission, and how badly she wanted to do one again.

"Not fighting exactly," she said, shrugging.

"Emma, you know how much you mean to Fred. Could you imagine what would happen to him if he lost you?"

"Did he stop to think about what would happen to me if I lost him?" she demanded, looking up at George. "I know you to do missions and you don't even tell me you've left. Dumbledore gave me something to do, and I did it, and I really enjoyed it. I felt like I was doing something useful."

George licked his lips and just stared at her for a long moment. Emma knew he was trying to think of things that would convince her not to fight, ways to guilt her, and no doubt he was about to use Sirius as an example. She decided to head him off.

"Sirius told me once," she said softly, "that the most important thing, the most _important_ thing, is that we do what's best for the war. And if I'm asked to go on a mission, I won't say no."

He shook his head and said, "I can't really judge you, because I know I would say the same thing in your shoes. But promise me you'll be careful, Emma? Sirius is dead. That's not allowed to happen to you, it's just not."

She smiled tightly, thinking of her conversation with Snape about death, and she hugged George, feeling the strange similarities and differences between him and his brother in the hug. George was more of a gentle soul, with a softer grip, but a warmer, more enveloping hold. He leaned the side of his head against hers and whispered, "Don't forget, Emma, how much he loves you. Never forget that."

"Now," she said, pulling away, smiling, "do you honestly think I could if I tried? Why don't you go ahead and send Lee back up and I'll warm his tea."

"Yeah, I should probably apologize as well for being so hard on him, as well."

George kissed Emma's cheek and went back downstairs, leaving her a moment to calm herself and her shaking hands. She'd just finished warming Lee's tea back up when he came in, smiling nervously.

"Sorry about that," Emma said with a laugh. "Sometimes George gets a little demanding." She licked her lips and stuck the cup in front of him.

"Do you know how many people whose records were changed?" he asked, picking up his tea. She watched him sip it for a moment while she weighed whether or not she would be allowed to say.

"I heard three," she said slowly. "So that must be you and me and someone else."

Lee talked for a bit about his work at WWN, and how sometimes he felt a bit useless for the war effort, but Emma assured him that someday his purpose would be clear, and he might not be wishing for all the added activity then.

He took off before lunchtime, and Emma put on a smile, because she didn't want Fred to start asking questions too. She'd dealt with too many questions that day.


	38. Care

"You had no trouble changing the papers?" Albus Dumbledore asked, pacing the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, where he had asked Emma to meet him, one of the few places they could meet with assurance of privacy.

"No," Emma said, sitting on the table and staring at the crest-covered china. Perhaps she would ask Harry if she could have a plate or something. Sirius hated the crest, but he was the last Black. "Professor, can I ask what all of this was for?"

"There is much I cannot say," he said wearily. "One thing about war, Emma, is that the world changes, and it changes rapidly."

She carefully dusted her fingers over the wood of the table, turning these words over in her mind. It wasn't an explanation, exactly, except...

"You think the Ministry will turn against Muggle-borns."

"I think," Albus said, turning to look at her with stern blue eyes, "that we must be prepared for every eventuality, and it is highly probably that if things continue as they are, the Ministry will fall at some point. And if the Ministry falls-"

"Protection for Muggle-borns of any kind goes with it," she said, nodding. And if Severus was correct, not drawing attention to herself at the Ministry would allow her to continue to do her job, both for the Ministry and the Order, without anyone even thinking about her blood status. She would be safe, or as safe as anyone could be spying in the snake pit.

Fred would hate it, But she knew that he wouldn't go into hiding, and Arthur would probably continue going to work day in and day out as well. He couldn't expect her to back down from her duty if he didn't.

"Something is troubling you, Emma."

She shifted a little bit on the table.

"When I opened my file... It's filed under... It's..."

"Your marriage license changed the name on your file to Emma Weasley, yes."

She looked up at him, stunned. He merely smiled at her. How was it that she told absolutely no one and suddenly everyone was figuring it out for themselves. Well, she told Tonks, but still.

"When you have lived as long as I have, my dear, you noticed patterns of behavior. This is not my first war, and you are not the first young lovers I have seen elope in secret."

Emma glanced up at the plates again and felt her stomach turning slightly.

"If they start looking at files, if they know I'm a Weasley... I'm going to be high-profile, aren't I? They're going to pay attention to me regardless of the changes to my lineage."

"Emma, you work on Muggle artifacts. They were going to be keeping an eye on you regardless. But yes, it will be a difficult situation for you. However, I believe that you are certainly equal to the task."

"Fred will worry."

"I will tell you a little secret: Fred will worry regardless."

She laughed a little to herself, knowing it was perfectly true. She tapped out a little rhythm on the table with her fingernails, looking up at the plates again.

"Harry won't mind if you take a piece of china, Emma," Dumbledore said gently. "I can even mention it to him myself if you'd like, but he would understand why you wanted it. He doesn't have any use for it, after all."

"I wouldn't feel right," she said softly. "Not asking him first."

"Well, I will mention it when I next see him, and I assure you that he will say yes."

"We'll see."

Dumbledore shook his head and smiled, perhaps amused by her cautiousness. Emma thought that was very ironic, given what she was trying to get up the courage to ask him. She watched him check his pocket watch and say, "I think it's nearly time to get back to the school," before she could work up the nerve."

"Professor," she said, "wait, there was something I wanted to ask."

He seemed to expect this, turning and waiting patiently for her to spit out the words. Emma licked her lips and said, "I was wondering...is there anything else for me to do?"

His smile was insipidly patient, and she knew he wanted her to be more specific, even though she was nearly positive that he knew exactly what she had asked. With a sigh, though, she gave in and said, "I mean, missions. Is there something more I could be doing for the Order?"

"There are always things, Emma," he said. "It's a time of war. But Fred would be worried."

What Fred didn't know...

"I want to do more."

Her eyes must have darted to the plates again, because he turned to consider them and his smile faded slightly before he said, "Sirius would not have been any less proud of you or more impressed with you based on your role in missions, Emma. He knew as well as anyone that not everyone has to fight. There are other things that can be done. It just happened that his best use was always as a soldier."

His best use and his greatest love. Emma shook her head.

"This isn't about Sirius."

"Isn't it?"

She inhaled deeply and shook her head. In her mind, it wasn't about Sirius, even if it was in some small way. In her mind, it was about doing everything she could, and the rush of feeling like she was doing something important.

"Maybe I don't have to a be a solider," she said. "But there are things I can't do, aren't there, beyond paying attention at work and talking about Umbridge's terrible practices as a boss?"

Dumbledore did not answer. He simply smiled at her, shaking his head, then nodding and walking out of the kitchen.

Emma sat in the eerie silence for a while before returning to work. Her lunch break was over, anyway.

A mission was given to Emma, anyway, in spite of Dumbledore's seeming objections. Her quiet nature, her relative anonymity, her ability to be entirely unseen in a room full of people, made Emma the perfect person, Dumbledore and Mad-Eye said, to tail certain people. Her mission would start with following none other than Percy for a day, gathering what could be gathered on him until she had more experience, and then she would be assigned people who were more...important.

"Like?" she asked Mad-Eye, but he shook his head.

"One step at a time, missy. Now, you know where he works and I'm sure it won't be hard to find out his hours. What are you telling Fred?"

She hadn't thought of that. Emma came up with a story that she would drop by the hospital after work, and that she had a lot of raids, so she wasn't sure when she'd be home. Fred didn't seem bothered by this, but Emma did feel a bit bothered with the lie. Especially after the talk she had with George. But how could she just stand by and not do her part?

Her heart was pounding as she checked her watch. Percy wouldn't be getting to the Atrium for another few minutes, so she fished around in her purse for a moment, not sure how he was leaving the Ministry. If he went on foot, she could follow him out of the Floo and into the streets of London easily enough. But if he left by Apparition? Emma's mind raced at what to do then. His flat, perhaps?

Fred had mentioned that Percy had gotten a place near to the Ministry in a building the Ministry kept for workers who wanted to be walking distance from work. Chances were that he would walk. And what if he didn't go straight to his flat?

What if he did?

She could follow him into a crowded place, but his own flat...that would be too obvious. Emma was wondering why Mad-Eye hadn't prepared her better for this.

Before she could run through more scenarios and make herself utterly paranoid, Percy came out of the elevator with a few other workers, and she saw him heading toward the Floo. She was careful to take the grate two over from his, and he seemed lost in thought.

Her grate had a slightly longer line, but she caught a glimpse of the back of him turning left out of the door and onto the street, and she hurried after him. She tried to rush and yet still look casual, but she was fairly certain that she succeeded merely in looking like she very much needed to find a toilet.

Awkwardly, the cafe he ducked into was the very one she'd stopped frequenting because of her run-in with one of the employees, the one who had asked her out. Her eyes scanned the street for a place she could watch him sufficiently, but there really wasn't one, and she wouldn't be able to see very well if he stayed inside the cafe and she hovered outside of it. Bracing herself, Emma just hoped that the guy wasn't working there at that moment.

Mercifully, no familiar faces could be found as she stepped into the coffee shop. Percy had already ordered, and she stepped into line, watching him wait for his coffee, staring absently at a spot on the wall. For a moment his vacant stare reminded her of the Imperius Curse and she was worried, but when his order was ready he snapped out of it and looked perfectly normal once more.

He sat down at a small table for two in the corner and she moved forward in line, waiting for her turn and casually glancing Percy's way every few seconds, as a part of a sweep of the room. He had his head buried in a file, a disguised Ministry file. Emma was itching to see what was inside it, even if it was nothing of interest, to prove to Mad-Eye that she was more than capable of the task they were charging her with.

The question was, how to do it.

"Miss?"

"Sorry," she said, turning her head sharply to the man taking orders. "I'll have a tea, two sugars and no milk, please."

"The name?"

Her heart almost stopped. If they said her name in the cafe loud enough for Percy to hear, he would look up. He knew her well enough. That was the sort of thing people did. Especially if they were doing something the didn't want people they knew to see.

"Jessica," she said, picking up the first name that came to mind. The man scribbled the name with loose, loopy letters onto the order form and handed it to the woman who was handling the tea. Emma stood off to the side, still letting her eyes graze the room, trying to decide where to sit, how best to get a look at the files. She couldn't coax him away from the files, because Percy would never leave important documents lying around. The toilet was past him, but if she walked that close to him he might recognize her, and that would defeat the whole thing.

"Jessica," the girl behind the counter said, and Emma started, taking the tea and thanking the girl.

Emma settled in a seat across the cafe from Percy, picking up a newspaper that was sitting on an end table, then setting it down again and picking up a magazine, opening it to a random article and holding it in front of her face. She pulled out her wand and tapped the surface of the paper to make it reflective. With the help of her makeshift mirror, Emma carefully and nervously did some quick Transfiguration to her features. Percy was oblivious enough that if she didn't look like herself, he might not notice her passing by a little too closely.

When Emma was satisfied with the changes, she put down the magazine, sipping her tea, watching him. Percy seemed so engrossed in his reading that he was barely even sipping his coffee. He'd be there a while. Unless...unless he drank the rest of the coffee on the walk to his flat after reading, and he didn't have too much to read. Emma didn't want to risk it.

As soon as she finished her quickly-drunk tea, she got up and crossed to the toilet, pausing in the little hall, behind a fichus. Licking her lips, she tried to read over Percy's shoulder. He was too far away, though, and the letters too small. She licked her lips again, pulled out her wand, and did a quick Charm to cause Percy's coffee to start leaking onto his lap. The hot coffee did the trick. He dropped the file to grab napkins and begin mopping up the mess the Muggle way, as he couldn't very well use his wand in the cafe. Emma Summoned the file, made a quick magical copy that she folded and tucked into her coat, and then prayed her disguise was good enough as she moved out from behind the fichus, holding the original file closed, smiling.

"'Scuse me, sir," she said, trying to throw a dash of Welsh accent into her voice. He started, looking up at her. "This fell on th'floor."

Percy snatched the file from her and muttered embarrassed thanks. Emma then went out to the street, stood in at a bus stop, and carefully changed her disguise again, pulling a scarf out of her purse to cover her outfit and praying he wouldn't notice the clothing being the same.

Whether he wanted to change and do laundry or whether he'd finished his reading, Percy exited the cafe only a few minutes later, and Emma could stop pretending to read the bus schedule posted at the stop. She followed him to his flat, stood outside, watched his window until the light came on. She could see his shadow on the blinds, but there would be nothing more to see. She hurried to Grimmauld Place where she knew Mad-Eye would be waiting.

"Emma," Kingsley said when he opened the door for her. "You look like you've got a disguise wearing off."

His smile was amused, but she waved it off, pushing past him and hurrying down to the kitchen, where Mad-Eye was frowning over some maps Bill had brought him.

"Emma," Bill said, raising a questioning eyebrow as she set the copy of the file down on the table next to the maps. Mad-Eye looked up at her with both eyes.

"Ministry file Percy was reading in a cafe," she said, sitting down across from them. Kingsley sat beside her. "I made a coffee while he was cleaning up the coffee I made him spill on his trousers." She grinned a little. "Which was oddly satisfying. I haven't had a look, yet, at what it is."

Mad-Eye opened the file and his magical eye scanned the documents while his nonmagical one looked up at Emma. Slowly, he started to grin.

"What is it?" Kingsley asked, leaning forward.

"These are the Ministry files on the Order," Mad-Eye growled. "Now we know what they know. And we know who knows it. There's a page here at the back that has a sign-out list. Excellent work, and good job doing this Charm under pressure. You even replicated an ink smudge on page three."

A flicker of pride licked at her insides and Emma grinned. She had not only completed the mission they had given her, but she'd found a way to do it exceptionally well. And this meant that they were likely to give her more. She walked back up the stairs to the door with Bill, who stopped her on the steps outside, frowning.

"Fred doesn't know you were doing this, does he?" he asked. "I can't imagine he would approve."

Emma stiffened slightly, tilting her head up at him.

"Fred goes on missions far more dangerous than what I just did. He'd be an awfully hypocritical man if he did care."

Bill frowned at her for a moment, and the longer he looked at her like that the more uncomfortable and unconfident Emma felt. Finally, he sucked in a quick breath and said, "If Fleur told me she wanted to do missions, I wouldn't argue. I mean, I would worry about her, but it's her choice. But if she went behind my back to do them, I wouldn't be angry but I would be very upset. You can't have a relationship if you don't communicate, Emma. And over something this important... Hiding things won't do either of you any good."

Somewhere inside of herself Emma knew that Bill was right. But she also knew that this wasn't the same, this wasn't the same as with him and Fleur. Bill likely told his fiancee when he was on missions. Fred snuck out and hoped Emma wouldn't notice.

"Thanks, Bill," Emma said softly. "I know you mean well. I'll...think about it."

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers, making her a little uncomfortable, but not judging. Nothing to prove, nothing to hide. Bill then clapped his hand on her shoulder and said, "Take care of yourself, Emma."

She said she would, and watched him leave. She knew that she should have felt more compelled to take Bill's advice, but the downer of his words hadn't made a big enough dent in her post-mission high, and she hardly spared a thought for it before heading back to Diagon Alley, only sparing attention for her own safety as she rushed into the shop, up the stairs, and taking a deep breath to steady herself before entering the flat with a smile.

She could tell him some other time.

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to reader **_**kissmyax95**_**. Thanks for reading, favoriting, following! I hope you continue to enjoy this story! I'm having a blast writing it.**

** -C**


	39. Shadows

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to new-ish reader, **_**paintmetheuniverse**_**. Hopefully you're still reading and enjoying!**

** -C**

Emma had been spending afternoons for all of February tailing people for Mad-Eye. She didn't have the practice of someone like Mundungus, but she also happened to be nobody in particular, and the likes of Antonin Dolohov didn't look twice at her in a crowd. Her heart pounded as she pushed through that crowd.

Dolohov wouldn't have exactly attracted attention, either. He'd put on a meager disguise after leaving his family manor. If she hadn't followed him from the gate, she wouldn't have noticed him, either.

He wound through the streets of London like he was invisible. Crowds could do that to a person, turn them invisible. No doubt he thought no one could see him. Emma watched him turn a corner down a dark alley and he seemed to vanish. Emma followed him down the alley, but she froze when she heard voices, and quickly pulled out her wand and disillusioned herself. She crept toward the voices, careful not to knock any stones and be discovered. Keeping to the shadows, she grew close enough to see and she felt her heart actually stop for a moment.

Standing in front of her was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange.

After a strong moment of fear, Emma had a long moment of blinding rage, and she felt an urge to kill Bellatrix, exactly like Bellatrix had killed Sirius. She dug her fingers into the brick wall at her back, keeping herself out of sight and unnoticed, trying to calm herself so she could focus on hearing.

"Exactly," Dolohov said softly. "There is something new he is hiding, I think." He hesitated, and Bellatrix raised an eyebrow in a way that made Emma think of Sirius, with smoothness and utter self-confidence. She fought the urge to shiver. Any sudden movement could draw attention to the imperfect visual illusion.

"What sort of something, Dolohov?" Bellatrix said. "To do with the boy?"

"I'm not sure," Dolohov said, his voice slow and careful. Even from her perch thirty feet away, Emma could see the glow in the woman's eyes, that feral look. Emma wondered if that look had been there before Azkaban, or if prison had unhinged her. Emma wished she could ask Sirius.

Dolohov cleared his throat and said, "He has spent an increased amount of time in the village, and in London. Away from the school, and not meeting with others. He seems to be watching the Ministry and Diagon Alley when in London."

Emma leaned forward slightly, unsure who they were discussing, but those were places she knew well.

"There are others assigned to those places," Bellatrix said, her eyes narrowing. "Is he following someone?"

"No one that I've noticed, on either side," Dolohov said softly. "But the motions are odd and nothing I know of in the Dark Lord's plans can account for it."

"No," Bellatrix said slowly. "Nor anything I'm aware of."

Emma held her breath, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs. Could they hear it? Would they know, in their silence, that someone was hidden nearby?

She listened to them discuss something else she didn't understand and told herself she'd have to give the memory to the Order with the hopes that someone would make something of it. Finally, Bellatrix took a step away.

"The Dark Lord wants you to fetch it today, if you've got the time," Bellatrix said sardonically, and Dolohov simply nodded.

"I'll go to Gringotts as soon as we've finished here."

"We're done," Bellatrix said smoothly. She took another step back before Disapparating, leaving Dolohov standing – he thought – alone in the alley. Emma watched him pace a few times, obviously upset about something, turning it over in his mind. He looked surprisingly small after watching him interact with Bellatrix, and Emma found herself feeling a little bit sorry for him. She knew enough from talking to Sirius that firstborn sons of pureblood lines were basically treated as gods, and yet Dolohov not only had to serve Voldemort, but also had to do the bidding of Bellatrix Lestrange, a daughter of a lesser branch of a powerful line.

She thanked every higher power that came to mind that a crunching sound rose from the debris and stones beneath his feet, because the lack of conversation didn't leave her with much wiggle room for quiet breathing, which was becoming more and more difficult the longer he stayed in that back alley. It involved breathing very shallowly, and she couldn't stand that for too long of a period.

Whatever he decided, he decided it soon enough that she didn't have to start panicking, but instead she followed him carefully, watched him turn the corner as she became visible again, and she melted into the crowd as she followed him toward Gringotts.

As she approached the large marble building, Emma began to panic a little after all. It was a nearly silent lobby, and she couldn't exactly disguise herself as a goblin. She certainly wouldn't be able to follow Dolohov to the vaults, but perhaps...

She followed him up the steps, into the lobby, and watched him address a goblin close to the vaults. Emma took a deep breath and moved to the nearest available goblin.

"Excuse me," she said sweetly as possibly, although she knew it made no difference to goblins. "Is William Weasley in today?"

The goblin looked up slowly, looking her up and down.

"He is," he muttered, looking back down at the sums in front of him.

"May you tell him that Emma Norwick is here to see him?"

The goblin looked up again, staring at her levelly for a moment before setting down his quill and climbed down from the stool. She glanced over to see Dolohov following a goblin off toward the vaults and had nearly forgotten that she was waiting for something when someone touched her shoulder.

"Emma?"

"Oh, Bill," she sighed, smiling at him. "A word?"

He nodded, glancing around at the goblins before leading her around behind the main desk.

"Did you really need to see me at work?"

"I was in the neighborhood."

He nodded, understanding. She lived in the neighborhood.

When he closed the door of his office, sitting her so she could see through the window to the lobby, he said, "Who?"

"Antonin Dolohov."

Bill sighed, shaking his head, his hair shifting around his face lazily.

"He's a very dangerous man, Emma," Bill said softly. "I thought I said-"

"You said to talk to Fred," she said defiantly. "You said I should consider having a talk with Fred. I'm going to keep doing this, Bill. The only way any of us is truly safe is in hiding, and even then..."

She trailed off, watching the goblins weighing jewels and gold in the lobby. Sirius had been in hiding, and left rather than watch helplessly, maddeningly, while others made the difference and suffered consequences. The Potters had been in hiding, and it hadn't mattered in the end that they sacrificed their own war efforts for their son. Even the safest of charms wasn't really safe in the end, because human error would always be a factor. And the deeper she got into the thick of things, the more she understood how Sirius couldn't stand being in a cage, why he couldn't just wait for news about Harry.

What she couldn't understand was how the Potters had let themselves get in their situation in the first place. Worrying about a spouse could be hard enough, but a helpless child? The logic that involved bringing a child into the world during wartime was foreign to her. At one time in her life it might not have been, but now that she'd taken an active role she couldn't imagine taking time out long enough to safely have a baby, much less to care for the child and keep it out of danger. And she couldn't ask Fred to go into hiding in her stead, or without her.

Bill just nodded again, glancing over his shoulder into the lobby.

"It's hard for all of us," he said gently. "I promise. But still, you need to be careful."

"I will," she said softly. "Anything?"

"Not yet," he said, frowning. "Did he mention what he was getting?"

"No, they already both knew. Any guesses what could take so long?"

"The ancestral pureblood vaults are pretty deep," Bill said with a shrug. "It can take a while just to get to and from. Are you reporting soon?"

"As soon as he Disapparates and I can no longer follow him," Emma said, watching the window. It was a large enough window, but there were so many people hustling and bustling by that she couldn't say for certain she hadn't missed him already. If it was too much longer of a wait, she would have to turn in her information without seeing what he'd gotten.

And then she saw his now-familiar gait as he crossed along the back of the bank floor.

"It appears it is time for me to take my leave," she muttered. "My love to the family."

"Cheers," Bill said darkly, his eyes following her as she left, but her eyes were glued to Dolohov. She followed as quickly as possible, noting that whatever he'd gotten out of the vault was well-concealed.

She followed him down the slightly-twisting street toward The Leaky Cauldron. Emma licked her lips, noting that he was walking a bit differently, which meant whatever he'd gotten, it was hidden in his cloak. Small enough to cover, but large enough to impact his stride. He snarled at a middle-aged woman who accidentally stumbled into his path. Emma tried to be as casual as possible as she followed him, moving swiftly but trying to blend in with the crowd. She thanked every higher power she could think of that she had a forgettable face, just in case he saw her.

Dolohov stopped toward the end of the street, frowning around at the passersby, waiting for something. Or someone. Emma paused at a shop, picking up a bauble, pretending to be examining it as she watched him, waiting with him.

The face of the man who arrived moments later was unfamiliar, but she memorized it anyway, just in case. The two men said nothing. They greeted each other with stiff nods, glancing around at the people. Emma could tell that the stranger's gaze was about to turn to her, and she quickly looked down at the bauble.

She heard the crack of Disapparition, and when she turned again, the two men were gone, along with whatever Dolohov had retrieved. She could only guess where they had gone, but wherever it was, she would have a difficult time following or even casually appearing there. Emma licked her lips, set down the bauble, and Apparated quickly to Grimmauld Place.

A quick tap, and Mad-Eye was waiting there, glowering down at her.

"You took long enough," he snarled.

"Indeed, long enough," Emma said coolly, walking past him and taking off her cloak. "Who's in the kitchen?"

"Fleur, Molly, Snape."

"Is Snape baking cookies?" Emma said, grinning as she took off her scarf.

"Hardly," Mad-Eye said, the corners of his mouth tipping up in a gruesome grin. "They're helping him prepare some restoratives to keep on hand."

Emma suppressed a shiver as she went down the stairs to the kitchen, thinking of all the things that could happen to someone where a restorative would be necessary. Maybe Bill was right. Maybe she hadn't given this as much consideration as she'd thought.

"Emma!" Molly said happily, obviously relieved to see her. "Why don't you help us?"

"I'm afraid I'm not going to be here very long," Emma said with an apologetic smile, secretly relieved not to be between Molly and Fleur. She hated being a buffer. "Just making a report."

"Excuse me," Severus said, leaving the women alone and following Emma and Mad-Eye into the pantry. He warded the door.

Emma raised her eyebrows.

"Is that strictly necessary?"

"It is if you don't want Fred to know what you're up to," Mad-Eye said. "Now, Dolohov. What's the word?"

Emma glanced at a jar of pickled eels on the shelf behind Severus's head.

"He had a brief meeting in an alleyway with Bellatrix Lestrange," she said, feeling her nails digging into the heels of her palms. "They were talking about someone...I really couldn't tell who. Something about behavior they couldn't account for with plans they knew about. And wondering if it had to do with...'the boy,' but they didn't say who. Harry, I suspect." Severus's eyes flashed. Whatever this was, he knew all about it.

"And then?" Mad-Eye pressed.

"Then he went to Gringotts," she said, looking right at Mad-Eye's good eye. "Into his vault, something he was expected to get. Bellatrix mentioned it. Whatever it was, he could cover it with his cloak, but he had to walk more stiffly to conceal it. He met a man I didn't recognize, and they Disapparated away."

Mad-Eye and Severus exchanged a look.

"So soon," Severus said softly. "Very interesting."

Emma raised an eyebrow.

"What's interesting?"

"Never you mind," Mad-Eye said gruffly. "You'd best be getting back to your flat or your Weasley might start asking questions."

Emma narrowed her eyes. She wasn't playing that game. If they were using her to gather information, they damn well better answer at least some of her questions.

"No," she said firmly, and Mad-Eye's eyes both fixed on her with some incredulity. Severus Snape's face was unreadable, but she was fairly certain that he wasn't surprised by her outburst. She opened her mouth to demand some answers, but Severus beat her to it.

"I assure you, _Miss Norwick_," he said pointedly, "That you will have your answers when it is prudent for you to have them."

She stared into his black eyes, recalling his promises. No lies.

"You're the man," she said softly, cocking her head. "You're the man they were talking about."

So who was the boy? Harry? It made some sense, but...

"I think that's enough for now," Mad-Eye said sternly, his magical eye quivering in its socket. "As I said, Norwick, you need to be getting back before someone starts asking questions and putting you in an uncomfortable position. And Severus, I believe you need to be heading back to the school."

"Indeed," he drawled. A slight twitch of his eyebrow indicated that she was expected to walk out with him. She nodded, following him into the kitchen, barely noticing the tension between the two women brewing.

She pulled her cloak around her tightly as she and Severus Snape stepped out into the open London air, and he glanced around Grimmauld Place with his usual expression of mild disdain.

"I misjudged you when you were my student, Mrs. Weasley," he said lazily. "You have more...Gryffindor in you than I would have expected. But there is such a thing as idiotic temerity. Your husband has it in spades. You're not unintelligent. Better if you learned to temper your bravery with something...more subtle."

Emma wasn't certain if that was meant to be an insult or a compliment, but she did know that he was trying to tell her something. Something about subtlety. And the fact that she wasn't sure what he meant probably didn't speak volumes for her skills in that matter.

"What are you suggesting?" she finally asked, and his lips twitched into a brief sneer.

"Perhaps I hadn't misjudged you entirely," he said coldly. "Nevertheless, you show some promise, and in a war such as this we use such tools as we must."

Well, that was certainly an insult, and she didn't like the sound of his implications at all.

She stared at him for a long moment before saying, "No doubt you have some plan for me, then." He said nothing. "Well, I'm not going to pretend that I won't do what's needed of me, Professor, but I certainly don't plan to do as ordered without a few answers."

His cruel smirk returned.

"As needed," he said simply. "I'll be in touch, _Mrs. Weasley_."

She didn't like the man, and she wasn't entirely certain that she trusted him, but what other choice did she realistically have?

Without another word, Severus Snape Disapparated, probably to the outskirts of Hogwarts. Emma lingered only a moment longer on the doorstep of Number 12 to make sure no Muggles were glancing out their windows before turning on her heel and finding herself in an Apparition-safe zone of Diagon Alley.

Not that it was so difficult to find empty parts of the street to appear at. People weren't shopping in the same force now that it was proven that Harry had been right about everything. She trudged up the street to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on high alert, as always.

The shop had begun to wind down for the day, and George and Verity were running it alone. George greeted her warmly, and told her that Fred was upstairs working on dinner.

When Emma stepped into the flat, Fred stood there, humming to himself, wearing an apron of all things, frying eggs. She smiled in sight of herself at the adorable, homey feel to the moment. And then the door closed behind her and he looked up, ruining it with his goofy grin.

"Hello, Emma," he chirped. "How was your day?"

"Oh, you know how it is," she said airily, taking off her cloak and crossing to kiss him on the cheek. "A load of wild goose chases."

"Ah, but you're brilliant at chasing wild geese," he teased, tapping her nose. "Wash up, love. You can peel the potatoes."

As she washed her hands, Emma told herself that it was for everybody's good that Fred didn't know yet, that he didn't worry too much. There would be a time to tell him. But this, a happy, unencumbered moment, this wasn't it.


	40. Moment of Some Truth

Emma rolled her eyes as the boys squabbled over wrapping paper. There wasn't much point in reminding the twins that their mother would be furious if they gave Ron firewhiskey. In fact, it would probably just encourage them. Instead, she focused on the report she was finishing before she went with them to Hogsmeade.

They'd been lucky she had the day off work, both at the Ministry and with the Order. Fred didn't realize just how lucky he was on that count, because she still hadn't found the right time to tell him that she was effectively spying for the Order.

"Spying" made her sound far more involved and important than she felt, but then, if she found herself too much more involved or important she would have to tell Fred. Or at least tell him something, some part of what was happening.

"Right," Fred said, and Emma jumped slightly, nearly ripping the roll of parchment she was leafing through. "How does it look?"

Emma glanced up at the parcel he held up for her consideration and fought the urge to laugh.

Floppy was the best descriptor for it, and he would be lucky if the wrapping lasted the journey to Hogsmeade, much less all the way to Ron.

"Love, that's terrible," she said with a small smile. "Try actually using the Spell-o-tape, yes?"

He made a slightly indignant, slightly bewildered sound and unwrapped the gift, beginning afresh. Emma watched him work for a moment before turning back to her report.

Something very uncomfortable was happening at work, and Emma wasn't certain, but she thought that Snape had something to do with it. There were several disagreeable Ministry workers who were beginning to watch her in the corridors, and she'd seen one of them talking to Umbridge quietly in the lift, both of them stopping when Emma approached.

His name was Yaxley, and while Emma hadn't looked into the matter, she was fairly certain that he was a Death Eater. She'd been looking for an opportunity to talk to Severus Snape about the matter, whether or not it was his doing, because he was the only person who would know for certain what was wanted with her. She certainly hoped it wasn't something about the forged papers she switched out for Dumbledore, because if Dumbledore had her take such a risk it was obviously important that she not be Muggleborn.

It didn't take too much imagination to guess why.

"What's so important in that report, anyway?" George asked as he struggled with the tape. "Haven't you read it about three times? What's it all about?"

"Nothing you'd care about," she said honestly, coaxing the parchment into a neat roll again and re-sealing it for interdepartmental passage. "Just some very boring memos about legislation that might not even be passed."

Legislation she hoped wouldn't be passed. The things it suggested about the rights of humanoid magical creatures made her skin crawl. She knew none of it was true, at least where werewolves were concerned, but in an environment of paranoia people saw demons everywhere. They lived in just the right climate where Emma wasn't sure what would happen, and her concern with the matter was more than just sympathy for humanoid magical creatures like Remus and their loved ones – like Tonks – but also the knowledge that the next step would be the dehumanizing of Muggles and Muggleborns in paranoia-driven legislation. She'd seen drafts of such legislation in Umbridge's papers when giving a departmental review in the sickeningly pink office, and Emma was keeping a very close eye on everything coming out of the Magical Creatures department as a result.

"What about now?" Fred asked in his most childish voice, and Emma looked up at the parcel once more.

He'd made an improvement, but she was still worried that he'd done a rather haphazard job. It would probably make the journey, though, and was it really worth putting him through the whole process again? She dipped her quill in the nearest inkwell and pursed her lips thoughtfully. If she asked him to do it again, she ran the risk of his losing all patience and simply wrapping the whole thing in tape.

As it was only going to get less attractive with further attempts, Emma nodded, and looked down at the sealed scroll, carefully addressing it to the next department head in line, blowing it dry before placing it on top of her work bag.

"Done, then?" George asked, doing exactly what she'd expected Fred to do next, which was simply taping the entire package, regardless of whether or not the tape was doing any good. She raised an eyebrow at the eyesore but decided to let it go before she wasted all day trying to get them to do the thing properly.

Emma stood, smoothing her skirt and nodding that she was, indeed, finished. She crossed to the sofa, where they were making a weak attempt to deal with the mess they'd made in their labor.

"Are we meeting anyone else in your family?" she asked. "Arthur didn't get work off, did he?"

They shook their heads.

A wizard's coming-of-age was a very important moment. Ron would be given a pocket watch, for example – a traditional seventeenth birthday gift. Emma actually wasn't sure what the traditional gift was for a girl who'd come of age, but she supposed she'd find out next year, when Ginny's birthday came round.

"Let me just sort out my hair, then," she said happily, "and I reckon we can go."

She ducked into her bedroom and glanced at the mirror, flicking a few strands of hair out of her eyes and smoothing some stray hairs back into place. It wasn't terrible, of course, and Ron wouldn't mind, but if Emma was going to be seen in public she'd rather not look like she'd just rolled out of bed. Better safe than sorry.

Emma pulled her cloak on as she dashed back out to the kitchen, where the twins were arguing over who'd done a better wrapping job. She had just opened her mouth to tell them off when an owl began to tap impatiently at the windowpane. George tossed his taped-up parcel on the counter and hurried to let it in.

"For you, Em," he said, holding out the letter. "Hogwarts seal."

Emma frowned, snatching it out of his hand, glancing briefly at the spiky writing on the front before tearing open the envelope. The emerald ink was short, concise, and slightly cryptic. She let her eyes graze the instructions from Snape and carefully translated it to the discussion she'd had with Kingsley when he gave her the scroll.

"Shit," she breathed, and the boys both looked at her like she'd grown a second head. Emma pulled the roll out of her bag and carefully tapped the seal, which fell off the parchment in a single piece, bouncing as it hit the counter. Emma smoothed out the roll and set the letter beside it, pondering how she could make the modifications on such short notice. The important thing is that it wasn't going through Umbridge or any known Death Eaters on the way through its path to activation.

Carefully, she ran her finger down the lines, looking for keywords she could shift, things she could replace without making the page look awkward. She found a word she could alter, tapped it with her wand, and watched the ink vanish from that spot.

"Are you altering that?" George asked, hurrying forward, but Emma looked up with a glare to stop him in his tracks.

"If you don't shut up and leave me alone," she said coldly, "I will alter your memory. Are we clear?"

Fred and George exchanged nervous looks as she turned back to the page, carefully tapping the letters she needed to copy, seeing them appear in the blank space. Perhaps out of fear, perhaps because they recognized that she was doing something very important, the twins remained utterly silent as she worked through the report, shifting half a dozen other words to change the meaning of the legislation.

Instead of restricting freedoms, it now guaranteed them in a subtle way. To get another act pushed through, it would take Umbridge months, maybe even a year if they played their cards right, and it was very hard to undo freedoms once they were done.

Legally, that is.

Once freedoms were taken, however, it was nearly impossible to restore them again without almost revolutionary force, and it was better if it never came to that.

With a careful hand, Emma gently rerolled the parchment and reattached the seal so that the address on the outside lined up correctly. She then licked her lips and asked Fred to use one of the shop owls to send it back to the Ministry. While he was doing that, she turned over Severus Snape's letter and wrote a swift reply.

_Done as ordered. Two weeks at most. Might have bought six to twelve months._

She folded the letter, sealed it, and sent it back to Hogwarts.

After taking a deep breath and settling herself again, Emma looked up to find both twins staring at her once, both looking decidedly uneasy.

"What?" she said as innocently as possible.

"Order work?" Fred asked gently.

"Yes," she said, pursing her lips. "It's not on your father's chain of approval, and Kingsley had to report on the contents. I was the only person to make the changes."

"I thought you said it wasn't likely to be passed," George said slowly.

"Now it has every chance of being passed, and a good thing, too," she said, adjusting her cloak and putting away her quill.

Emma was about to suggest that they get a move on, but she noticed that they were looking at her like a couple of gaping fish.

"What?" she said again, this time slightly irritated.

"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?" Fred said nervously.

"What are you talking about?"

"He's talking about how you've gone all Muggle spy film," George said with a quirked eyebrow. "Hardly a word about what you're doing, why you're doing it, threatening me when ask questions. It's not like you, Emma."

It might have been a moment of truth, standing there, being confronted on her actions. Had her behaviors changed so drastically? Was it a bad thing? After all, as Snape had suggested, bravery without a bit of secrecy and subtlety would get her nowhere by dead. But keeping secrets from Fred and George, was that really her? Was it wise?

Both pairs of nearly-identical eyes stared at her with such concern that for a moment she wanted to break down and tell them everything, but Emma took a deep breath and got a hold on herself.

"It's really nothing," she said calmly. "I've just decided I don't like this dress. D'you mind if I take a few minutes and change?"

They exchanged nervous glances, but just as George was saying that Ron would only be just waking up, anyway, Emma was already pushing her way into the bedroom, pulling off her cloak, pulling off her dress. She opened the doors of the closet when the door to the bedroom opened a little behind her.

"Well, that's unfair," Fred said, smiling weakly as she faced him. "I can't talk to you when you look like that. I can't think of words."

Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes, knowing that he would take such an act the wrong way with everything that had just happened. Instead, she quickly and silently pulled on a soft blue dress and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Let's sit," he said, sitting down at the foot of the bed. Emma did as directed, her heart pounding a little more than she would have liked. She'd done nothing wrong, nothing he wasn't doing from time to time. "Emma, I'm getting the sense that there's something you're not telling me, and I no longer think it has anything to do with your matchmaking plans." She licked her lips, planning to tell him nothing. Finally, though, he said, "Emma, I'm worried about you."

No, the moment of truth had finally come, but there were degrees in everything. She pursed her lips looking up at him, her eyes scanning the freckles on the bridge of his nose.

"You should worry," she said softly. "It's a war. But you don't need to worry more about me than anyone else in your family. If anything, worry about Ron. He's the one at the eye of the storm."

Fred's lips twisted into a surprisingly bitter grin and he said, "One thing about growing up in a family as big as mine, Emma, is that you learn that you have an unlimited capacity to worry about everyone you care about in excess. I worry about Ron constantly, have done since first year. And I worry about Harry, because he's basically family, and Hermione, and Lee. But you, you're my wife, and I love you, and I worry about you more than I worry about my own mother, or about my own life." Emma shivered, glancing at the bedroom door.

"There are things you don't tell me as well," she said, whispering, fairly certain that George was pressing his ear to the door. "How many times have you left in the middle of the night for some dangerous mission, back before dawn, never waking me, never saying a word?" Fred's eyes darkened and he tried to look away, but she put her hand on his chin and he stopped turning.

"Emma, it's a war."

"You think I don't know that?" she said darkly. "You think I don't know that every time I do what Mad-Eye or Kingsley or Snape or Tonks or Dumbledore asks of me that I'm putting my life on the line?"

"Then why do you do it?" he asked, his voice slightly strained.

"Why do you?" she almost screamed, jumping to her feet and crossing to the window. He frowned at her, brow furrowed with confusion and frustration. Why couldn't he just understand! "Fred, I can't live in a box. I'm not made of glass. You want to fight this war because it's the right thing to do. So do I. Can't we just make a deal, no questions we don't want the answers to, and not to ask the other to do something we aren't willing to do ourselves?"

She watched his throat shift as he swallowed, taking in her words, weighing his options, perhaps. Finally, he licked his lips and said, "Emma, I'm afraid."

"So am I," she whispered back from across the room, her voice sounding small in the stillness.

"So," he said, his voice quaking, "what…what do we do?"

Why was she the one who had to come up with all of the answers? How was it her job to take care of both of them? Hadn't he promised to take care of her?

He tried that, she reminded herself. This was why they'd gotten to this point in the first place. She found she didn't really want to be taken care of, even by Fred. She wanted to be able to stand on her own two feet. Especially because…because if something happened to him, she didn't want to crumble. She needed to know that if he were gone, she would be okay.

"We carry on," she said, raising her eyebrows, meeting his weary gaze, "as we have done. We fight as we've been fighting. And every night, we say what we can say, what we can hear, and we thank Merlin we're both alive."

He shivered, more of a twitch than anything, and Emma felt immensely guilty. So many things she hadn't told him. How could she tell him that she'd woken up every time he left and used the opportunity to practice the Animagus transformation Remus had given her the book for? How did she say that Snape was probably planning to use her for some particular project?

No, there were many things she would not tell him. Not unless she had to. After all, she didn't know where he and George went when they went on missions, either. Fair's fair.

"I don't like it," he said, standing and slowly crossing to her. "But I can't say I've got a right to complain. I certainly can't think of any better situation."

Emma nodded, looking up in his eyes, thinking how far they were now from the young, smitten teenagers sharing a first kiss. It seemed like worlds ago, whole lifetimes away from where they were, standing in their bedroom, so many secrets between them. She knew he didn't love her any less, and she certainly didn't love him any less, but everything was different.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into a hug. She let her arms snake around his neck and rested her chin on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, visualizing the animal that was beginning to form in the mirror when she practiced. A few more sessions and she would have full ability to transform at will. She decided to do as Sirius and his friends had done, in present climate, and not tell the Ministry, not register her form.

Which she was almost certain would be an otter.

"I love you," Fred whispered.

"Love you too," Emma muttered into his neck, feeling one of his hands move to smooth her hair.

Just as she thought maybe she would kiss his neck, the door to their bedroom burst open and they jolted apart, startled by George's unusual behavior of entering their room without knocking. To Emma's surprise, he looked actually afraid.

"George, what is it?" she asked.

"Letter from Mum," he said, voice strained. "We need to go now."

"Go where?" Fred asked, already pulling out his wand like he was getting ready for battle. Emma was pulling on her cloak.

"Hogwarts. Ron's in a bad way."


	41. Infirmary

Fred and George still had their meeting in Hogsmeade to attend, so Emma went on to the Hospital wing with Molly and Arthur, who were suitably distressed by what had happened.

"How do things like this happen at a school?" Molly squeaked as they looked down at Ron's prone figure.

Emma merely wondered how things like this kept happening to Ron. After all, he wasn't Harry, but he seemed to end up nearly-dead just as often. And the love potion he had accidently ingested had been meant for Harry. The poison, though, that hadn't been. That had been meant for someone else.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?" Madam Pomfrey said gently, and Emma clenched her fists so that her nails dug into her palms. "The headmaster wishes to speak with you now, if you're ready."

Molly seemed incapable of answering, blowing her nose loudly as Arthur said that yes, they were ready. After all, Ron was stable and would eventually make a full recovery, thanks to Harry's quick thinking.

"You go on," Emma said, watching Ron. "I think I'll stay here a bit longer."

She wasn't alone for long once the Weasleys were led to Albus's office by Madam Pomfrey. As she half-expected, Severus Snape stalked in not ten minutes later, his face unreadable as he unstoppered a potion and poured it down Ron's throat. Emma wanted to ask what it was, but that would seem untrusting rather than merely curious.

"No doubt his brothers will feel guilty," Snape said without any way of greeting, "given that their potion caused the chain of events in question."

Emma frowned.

"No doubt," she said slowly. Indeed, Fred and George felt immensely guilty. But it wasn't exactly their fault. She'd made them take all reasonable precautions about the very potion that caused all of the hullabaloo. They had no way to foresee a result like this. "Still," she continued, looking up at him as he set the vial back down, "he was very lucky. Perhaps the intended recipient would not have been so."

His lips curled into a cruel sneer and he said, "The intended recipient would never have received the bottle. You are not acquainted with Horace Slughorn, but he has a tendency of keeping the finer things that end up in his hands, regardless of any initial thoughts of magnanimity."

Well, that had told her nothing about what was really going on with all these near-deaths. But with this new bit of information, it seemed that this was as poorly a planned attempt as the one that still had Katie in St. Mungo's.

"You didn't come here to tend your sickly student," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"You will be required in the near future," he said simply. She continued to look at him expectantly and he said, "Per your intelligence, I will need an excuse for some of my necessary behaviors, and thus I need to be seen with someone who cannot be explicitly tied to the Order."

It boggled Emma's mind that she still qualified as that, but then, she was a forgettable person.

"And the nature of this…need?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "What sort of an alibi am I meant to be giving you?"

If his expression hadn't been one of mild disgust she would have been horrified by the next words out of his mouth.

"You will pretend to be my lover." Her jaw must have dropped, because his sneer returned and he said, "Tastefully, of course. Subtlety. Unless you feel you are incapable of such an act."

"Why me?"

"I told you why, you stupid girl," he growled. "You are not explicitly connected to the Order and you are not of interest to the Dark Lord."

Emma tilted her head, sitting back a little.

"Why do you call him that? Even I call him Voldemort now. And I know you're not afraid of the name."

His stare was unblinking, unchanging, completely without any clues as to what was going on behind those black eyes. Finally, he said, "Do you know how to tell a lie, _Miss Norwick_?" She narrowed her eyes. What sort of answer was this? He leaned forward slightly, lowering his already low voice. "You live it. Every moment of every day you tell that lie to everyone, including yourself. You have one person you share the truth with, living or dead – I find at this point that it hardly makes a difference – and then at all other times that lie is the truth. This is the only way to keep your stories straight without losing your mind."

Emma nodded, understanding. Extreme, perhaps, but far more effective than her own methods. And he would have to be, with the lies he had to tell, the people he had to lie to. If she had no one to love, no one to come home to every day like Fred and George and Tien, she might have done the same. Emma recognized, though, that he was not giving her advice. He was simply answering a question in the only way he could.

"Where and when?" she asked softly.

"I will inform you in the usual manner," he drawled, leaning away again. "And this is one thing that I absolutely insist you tell…no one."

No one. Not Fred, not anyone at all. She nodded again, glancing at Ron, seeing that he was beginning to stir. Whatever the potion was, it was something to make certain that even in his unconscious state, he would not hear them.

Emma had a few things she wanted to ask, but she got the sense that with Ron stirring a little, even though he would not become conscious, it would not be safe to ask. The clock struck eight as Snape swept out of the room, and on her way back in, Madam Pomfrey led in a trailing group of students. Namely, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny, who immediately sat around the bed.

"How is he?" Hermione asked Emma softly.

"Unchanged," Emma said. "Stable, but not alert."

The four of them stared at Ron in silence until about ten past, when Fred and George finally showed up. They were each holding presents, looking uneasy. Fred set his down, taking Emma's hand as George crossed the infirmary.

"So," Fred said, "all in all, not one of Ron's better birthdays?"

Emma knew that the tightness in his voice was a bit of guilt. She blinked into the candlelight, wondering what they would say to each other once they left the hospital wing.

"This isn't how we imagined handing over our presents," George said solemnly, setting the other parcel down on top of the rest. He sat down by Ginny, closest to the door.

"Yeah," Fred said darkly, "when we pictured the scene, he was conscious."

"There we were, getting ready to go to Hogsmeade, thinking of surprising him-"

"You were in Hogsmeade?" Ginny asked, looking up at them with mild surprise.

"There was a plan to buy Zonko's," Emma said, shuffling her feet a little against the stone floor. "I dunno, they went to the meeting anyway, but I can't imagine it'll do you any good, Fred, if they're going to keep barring students from shopping weekends."

He nodded slowly, and the group fell into silence again as Fred pulled a chair over so that he could sit between Harry and Emma as they all watched Ron's too-pale face. His freckles looked eerily dark in the candlelight.

"How exactly did it happen, Harry?" Fred asked.

Harry had probably told the story a hundred times, and Emma raised her eyebrows sympathetically as he began to relate to them how he'd taken Ron to see Professor Slughorn in order to get an antidote for the love potion he'd accidentally ingested. Then Slughorn proposed a toast, and Ron drank first. The reaction was quick and debilitating.

"Slughorn was pretty useless," Harry said sadly, "but I remembered something I'd read in my textbook and I went through some of the ingredients he'd had out for the antidote and I found a bezoar. Holding Ron still while he was frothing about was a bit tricky, but I pinned him still enough and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here. They reckon he'll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to stay here a week or so…keep taking essence of rue…"

"Blimey," George said softly, "it was lucky you thought of a bezoar."

"Lucky there was one in the room," Harry said with a modest shrug. But Emma knew what was going through his head.

If he hadn't been able to find one, Ron would have been dead.

Hermione seemed to have this idea as well because she sniffed softly, her eyes bright-red and swollen.

"Mum and Dad?" Fred asked Ginny.

"You missed them," Emma said softly. "We got here about an hour ago, right, and they left maybe twenty minutes ago for Dumbledore's office. I expect they'll be back soon, just talking over formalities."

The room fell into silence again as Ron began to mutter complete incoherencies in his unconscious state.

"So the poison was in the drink?" Fred clarified, obviously uncomfortable with the sort of silence they were in.

"Yes," Harry said quickly. "Slughorn poured it out-"

"Would he have been able to slip something into Ron's glass without you seeing?"

"Probably, but why would Slughorn want to poison Ron."

"I don't know the man personally," Emma said, raising her eyebrows once more, "but I can't imagine that he would. Maybe he didn't get whoever he intended?"

This was pushing into dangerous territory, and she wondered exactly had happened as much as the others, but while she couldn't lead them too far down the right direction for the sake of the Order, she also couldn't just sit there like it wasn't being discussed around her. And she certainly couldn't let them believe that Slughorn would want to poison Ron.

"Why would Slughorn want to poison Harry?" Ginny asked, obviously missing the point of what Emma had said, but Fred picked that up.

"I dunno," he said thoughtfully, "but there must be loads of people who'd like to poison Harry, mustn't there? 'The Chosen One' and all that?"

Ginny leaned forward slightly.

"So you think Slughorn's a Death Eater."

"Anything's possible."

"Remember what happened with Katie," Emma said softly. "Imperius Curse."

Ginny quirked an eyebrow.

"Or he could be innocent," Ginny argued. "The poison could have been in the bottle, in which case it was probably meant for Slughorn himself."

Emma's stomach turned. This was getting too close to the truth now, she just knew it.

"Who'd want to kill Slughorn?" George asked, bewildered.

"Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side," Harry said quickly. "Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And…" He paused, a guilty expression passing over his face for a faction of a second. "And maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore."

Ginny, too sharp for her own good, decided to poke holes in this as well, and she said, "But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas. So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore."

Dumbledore. Emma could hear Snape's words echoing in her head.

_The intended recipient would never have received the bottle._

Perhaps it was sloppy, but if Dumbledore was the intended recipient, that meant that whoever was doing this, they were gunning for Dumbledore. But based on his words to Emma, the headmaster already knew this. She shivered slightly.

"Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," Hermione said, her voice tight and nasally. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known that there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."

"Er-my-nee," Ron muttered in his sleep suddenly, more clear than anything else he'd said in their presence. This shocked the room into silence once more, and they all stared at him, wondering if he'd wake.

Instead, he began to snore. Emma hoped that this would allow them to talk about something else, but before she could think of a suitable change of topic, the doors burst open violently and Hagrid rushed in, wet and muddy. She knew Filch would be very upset by the mess, but Hagrid didn't seem to think about anything but Ron.

"Bin in the forest all day!" he wailed. "Aragog's worse, I bin readin' to him – didn' get up ter dinner till jus' now an' then Professor Sprout told me abou' Ron! How is he?"

"He's going to be okay," Emma said gently.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey stuck her nose out from her office, clearly upset and she snapped, "No more than seven visitors at a time!"

They looked around at each other, counting, and George finally said, "Hagrid makes seven."

"Oh…yes…" she said hazily, and in order to cover for the fact that she'd not been paying very close attention, she quickly began to clear the mud that Hagrid had trailed in, which was probably best for everyone.

"I don' believe this," Hagrid croaked, looking down at Ron sadly. "Jus' don' believe it…. Look at him lyin' there…. Who'd want ter hurt him, eh?"

"That's what we were just discussing," Harry said. "We don't know."

"Someone couldn' have a grudge against the Gryffindor Quidditch team, could they? Firs' Katie, now Ron…"

Emme pursed her lips, trying to think of a way to steer the conversation back away from this, but it seemed a hopeless cause.

"I can't see anyone trying to bump off a Quidditch team," George said.

Emma snorted.

"You've been out of school too long," she said, trying not to smile. "You know perfectly well that Oliver Wood would have killed the Slytherins one by one if he'd been able to do it without getting caught."

George, Fred, and Harry all nodded that this was plausible.

"Well, I don't think it's Quidditch," Hermione said, "but I think there's a connection between the attacks."

Damn Hermione and her keen mind. Emma decided that she'd liked the girl better when she'd been silently sniffling in the corner.

"How d'you work that out?" Fred asked.

"Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren't, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course," she muttered, "that makes the person behind this even more dangerous, in a way, because they don't seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim."

Desperation, inexperience, dozens of things that were clues to who the killer was. It was one thing not to care who got hurt in between. Bellatrix Lestrange was that insane, but Emma thought that Bellatrix was clever enough to recognize that such sloppy attempts increased the likelihood of being caught out before reaching the victim in question.

But whoever it was, Snape and Dumbledore must have already known, or they wouldn't be interfering with the investigation. So…why hadn't they done something about it?

Her thought was interrupted by the entrance of Molly and Arthur, who rushed in toward Ron's bed. Molly immediately pulled Harry into a hug, which startled the boy and knocked his glasses slightly off kilter.

"Dumbledore's told us how you saved him with the bezoar," she sniffed into his shoulder. "Oh, Harry, what can we say? You saved Ginny…you saved Arthur…now you've saved Ron…"

"Don't be…I didn't…"

"Half our family does seem to owe you their lives, now I stop and think about it," Arthur said, his voice strangely tight and dry. "Well, all I can say is that it was a lucky day for the Weasleys when Ron decided to sit in your compartment on the Hogwarts Express, Harry."

Or unlucky, Emma thought darkly, depending on how one thought about it. After all, Ron's incident at the very least was because of Harry being his friend, and for all Emma knew the near-deaths of Ginny and Arthur would also have been avoided had Harry befriended someone else on the train. That was a bit of an uncomfortable thought.

She didn't have to dwell on it long, however, because Madam Pomfrey swooped in again to remind them of the guest limit, and Hermione, Harry, and Hagrid left Ron to be alone with his family.

Emma crossed over to a window overlooking the lake and she shifted on her feet. Sitting with the Weasleys around Ron's hospital bed felt wrong, especially as Molly blew her nose. Fred came over a few minutes later and brushed a bit of Emma's hair over her left shoulder.

"Sickle for your thoughts," he whispered.

"I don't belong over there," she breathed back. "That's all."

Fred frowned. She knew he didn't agree with this, but he said softly into her ear, "We could tell her now, you know, if it would make it feel better."

"_No_," Emma hissed firmly. "We are not telling your mother about it while Ron is still unconscious from nearly dying."

"Hmm. Well, when you say it like that. You know, it might be good for her, give her some good news to help her feel better."

Emma just glared at Fred and he nodding his capitulation. She looked back down at the lights from the castle shimmering gold on the Black Lake, with the silver of the moon down the water a ways. The wind blew ripples across the surface of the water, and Emma felt a deep chill inside as she wondered how many more lives would tally up as collateral damage in this battle that felt more and more every day like a private war between Harry and Voldemort. She turned and looked at the hospital wing and she wondered, realistically, how could a family so big not have someone die when those close to Harry were the highest on the target list?

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to regular reader and reviewer, **_**SiobhanPhelps**_**, who has remained a loyal reader after my inexcusable absence from this story. Thank you so much for your continued support, and I hope you continue to enjoy as we move toward the end of book six and into book seven! All the dynamics will change, and I think we're already seeing glimpses of that.**

** -C**


	42. Metamorphasis

Emma frowned down at the street of Diagon Alley from the window of their flat. Fred was lightly snoring behind her, George still hadn't come back from his date with Angelina, and their visit to the hospital wing was still so fresh in Emma's mind that if she closed her eyes she could see Ron's pale, unconscious face.

Fred had been out of sorts all night. Emma couldn't blame him. She didn't have siblings, but she had known what it was like to find out that Katie had almost died, and that had felt like death itself. And she had lost Sirius.

She wondered what Sirius would have to say about the position she found herself in. Obviously he would support her finding any way she could to fight, to help the war effort. How could he not without being hypocritical? But he would no doubt look at her dealings with Severus Snape as a contract with the devil. Maybe it was, but she felt that she could trust him, as instinctively as she felt that she could trust Sirius, or that she was in love with Fred. She couldn't put why into words, but she trusted Severus Snape.

She breathed out a light chuckle at this thought, her warm breath fogging the glass between her and the night air. A cat rushed up the alley, and in her paranoia for a moment she thought that it might be an Animagus, and she wondered what side it was on.

But sometimes, she told herself sternly, a cat was just a cat.

Emma had choices to make yet again. She could disclose to Fred the nature of everything she was doing for the Order, every mission, every interaction with Snape. After all, relationships were built on honesty. Openness was a form of honesty.

It was just as easy to tell herself that telling Fred would only cause trouble between them. And anyway, he started this whole mess of secrets. He thought he was protecting her, but she also felt, staring out at the night, that she was protecting him. There was a reason Severus Snape had no one in his life.

How would he ever know they would be safe, with all the things he had to do as a spy?

His words about the best way to lie played through her head and she shivered, her spine feeling suddenly cold.

Could she do that with Fred? Could she live a lie like it was the truth every day? Or would he be the one person she had to confess everything to, the one person she told the truth? They had already proved how poor they were at keeping a secret between them. No, there would be secrets she could not tell Fred. She would have to be okay with this thought, she would have to be able to lie to him and not blink an eye.

Could she?

She turned her head slightly, glancing at the bed where Fred continued his cadence of snoring into the pillowcase.

Emma was not raised to think about the complexities of war. She had been raised in a quiet, happy, normal Muggle household. Her parents had been surprised, confused, but proud when she received the news that she would be attending a wizarding school. There had been an expectation then, one that proved true, that the deeper Emma went into the wizarding world, the less of her life her parents would understand. What would they say if they could see her now, see the choices she had to juggle? Perhaps they were simple human questions, but they felt the furthest thing from simple.

Perhaps it wasn't human, either.

Fred stirred, turning to look at her as his eyes blinked open. She wondered if she'd made some sound she hadn't realized.

"Whassamatter?" he mumbled into the near-dark.

"Nothing," she half-lied. "Couldn't sleep."

"Is this about Ron?" he asked, sitting up slightly. "Madam Pomfrey said he'll be just fine."

Emma took a deep breath, glancing back down at the street below. Once she could imagine a world, recall a world, where the only thing that could have been on her mind in the middle of the night was a family or friend in ailment. Had the world truly been simpler then, or was it just the way she saw the world?

She was no longer a child, and she could no longer afford to look at the world through a child's eyes, tempting though it was. Fred seemed to be able to see the world as an adult, see her as an adult, and yet turn around and imagine that she still saw the world through a child's eyes.

Emma smiled softly, turning back to where he was watching her, obviously worried. His eyes changed as she approached the bed.

"I hadn't wanted to wake you," she said softly, crawling into bed. "It's nothing. But…since you're already awake."

His eyes widened slightly as she leaned in for a kiss, and she had the split-second impression that he'd meant to say something to her, perhaps a question. When their lips touched, however, he forgot whatever it was and she pulled him into a series of kisses growing rapidly in passion and fervor.

In the back of her mind, the face of Bellatrix Lestrange suddenly swam into view. For the first time of even thinking of that face, Emma wasn't afraid. She wasn't sure why, but she had a sudden and strong sense that fear would only make the way forward more difficult, would keep her from seeing clearly.

And that was what she needed now, she decided as Fred began to place kisses down her neck. She needed, no matter the cost, to seek and maintain clarity in how she looked at the world around her. Without it, she was blind. Without it, she might as well still be using a child's eyes to view something beyond her childhood comprehension.

After a round of sex, Fred fell asleep against her chest and she petted his hair as sleep took her, thinking all the while of how she would have to change.

As with all major life changes, the first week was the hardest. Emma began to develop a face that she used both at home and at work. As Severus Snape had told her, she needed to absolutely live the story she would give to everyone else. Why would they mistrust the face they saw every day? She knew, as hard as it was, that the only people she could trust on the matters of the war were Severus and Albus, the only people who had the answers to the questions that plagued her.

Emma made it her personal mission, as well, to not only work well for Dolores Umbridge, but to ingratiate herself to the woman, making herself as indispensible to the Ministry as possible. Not that she cared much for her work, but having some measure of clout and a certain sort of contact within the Ministry would make her far more useful to the war effort. Perhaps it wasn't keeping her head down exactly, but with the changed birth records, Emma felt a bit more brazen in the glistening Ministry halls.

Toward the end of the week, a very small, very private meeting of key Order members was called, and somehow Emma found herself sitting between Mad-Eye and Severus at a small table in the second-floor sitting room of 12 Grimmauld Place. Albus had his back to the window, Kingsley was tapping the table rhythmically, and Remus was just entering, rubbing his eyes and looking about three years older since Christmas. Emma shivered slightly as his eyes met hers with confusion.

"Tonks is unable to make it because of work, but Kingsley is here on his behalf and hers," Albus said softly, completely devoid of his usual twinkle. "As we all know, there are some very important factions in the balance here."

Emma felt like she ought to be taking notes, but aside from the fact that everything they were sharing was incredibly secret, she didn't want to remind them all of how recently she had been a student – a student of most of the men at the table, in fact.

"The werewolves will not fight against the Death Eaters," Remus said wearily. "Not en masse. It's a question, at this point, of winning over a few here and there."

Perhaps this wouldn't have sounded so different from the general wizarding situation, except that the default for the werewolf population was certainly fighting for Voldemort, not imagined neutrality driven by fear. Because the drive for werewolves was not fear, but vengeance and desperation.

"I've spoken with some of our more highly placed Squibs," Kingsley said, and Emma frowned. "Obviously, there is only so much we can do, only so many people and places we can protect, but nearly all our protections are now in place."

"Excellent," Albus murmured, and Emma felt her stomach turn. How long had Squibs been keeping an eye on Muggle government and life for the wizarding world? Obviously, she was grateful now that they were able to protect the Muggles so effectively, but she did wonder if it had always been so magnanimous. "Alastor?"

"Families of Order members in all quarters are as well-protected as is possible," Mad-Eye growled. "And the number of safe houses at our disposal is not only double that from the first war, but it's due to grow to half again as many by the time Potter is of age."

This date was obviously significant for more than legal reasons, although Emma wasn't sure what those reasons were. She judged this by the way Albus stiffened at the mention of the date, and how Severus's pinky twitched just slightly. It held no special meaning to anyone else at the table.

"Emma," Albus said, turning to her with a small smile, still without sparkle. "How are things at the Ministry? How are Umbridge and Scrimgeour?"

"It's difficult to say," she said honestly. No point trying to seem cleverer than she was. It would help no one. "Umbridge is always up to something, but whether that something is anything new or particularly dangerous I've yet to discover."

"Not surprising. And Scrimgeour?"

Emma shrugged slightly and said, "Honestly, I hardly see Scrimgeour, which seems promising on the Umbridge front. The more she trusts me, the less likely I am to be called in for meetings with the Minister. But it does pose problems for keeping an eye on him. Hardly anybody sees him in person anymore, just those who report directly to him and Percy Weasley."

The men at the table with her nodded at this news, but it wasn't good news. The narrower Scrimgeour's circle of influence, the more paranoid the man was. Paranoid men might think they were protecting themselves, but usually all they did was make themselves more vulnerable to a clever, patient, persuasive enemy. And nearly all the Death Eaters they knew of in the Ministry matched that description perfectly.

The talk then went on to Death Eaters, movements, methods, and probable concerns that could and should be soon addressed by the Order. Emma listened carefully to this, but she gave little input, unlike the men around her. She had learned and learned well at school that sometimes silence was the most useful tool. She soaked up the information quietly, and would discuss things with Severus later as needed.

Although Emma had felt intimidated when she sat down at the meeting, she felt remarkably confident by the end of it, until Remus caught her on the way downstairs to the front door, grabbing her by the elbow. He whispered in her ear, "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

For a brief flash Emma was angry that he asked, as if she was still a child, but he said, "You have an awful lot of people who care about you. The rest of us have no kin."

"You have Tonks," she countered, and before he could argue that it was different, she shook her elbow free and left.

She couldn't have lingered anyway, since she had a late shift at the Ministry that day. Not a night shift, thankfully. It was deemed unsafe to do those during the war except guard compliment. She just would have a late dinner. Emma checked in through the employee entrance, and she spotted Umbridge in the Atrium later than usual, talking with a wizard Emma couldn't recall the name of, someone from Magical Law Enforcement. Yardley? Yambly? She'd have to keep her eye on that one.

Emma stepped into the lift and found herself, unfortunately, face-to-face with Percy Weasley.

"Miss Norwick," he said stuffily.

"Percy," she said, more out of habit than any sort of fondness for the man. Strange to think of him like a man now, when he still acted so much like a boy.

"I saw my family at Christmas," he said slowly as the lift began to move. "I was surprised not to see you there."

Was he attempting to bait her? Did he think she would divulge information to him? She'd started dating Fred after Percy had effectively left the family. He knew they were close friends, but she saw no reason for him to know more than that.

"I spent Christmas with family."

She didn't think Percy would go to great lengths to confirm this, and anyway, it wasn't a lie. Not exactly the truth he thought he was hearing, but Emma hardly cared. She got off on her floor and didn't look back at him, trying to walk as naturally as possible, despite knowing that he was watching her as he waited for the lift doors to close.

Emma settled in her desk and pulled the closest stack of paperwork toward her. The wording on so many new incident forms was troubling her. The longer she worked at the Ministry, the more she noted that a tighter and tighter fist was being drawn about the employees. Perhaps it was for their own safety. Perhaps it would aid the law enforcement in these difficult times. But Emma wasn't naïve enough to believe this. She saw these measures as desperation, desperation easily exploited by Death Eaters.

Were things truly this bleak, or was she simply seeing darkness wherever she turned? She liked to think it wasn't a figment of her imagination, but the alternative wasn't much better. Better to see and be wrong than to not see and hope there was nothing when something was lurking.

Emma signed a few forms and sent them along, checking the clock every five minutes. The last thing she needed was to be late for dinner and have Fred ask her questions. She wasn't in the mood to have her lying-face tested.

The hours crept by slowly, silent but for the scratching of her quill on parchment. Memos came and went. She frowned at every bit of paperwork off Umbridge's desk. She felt as though pieces of a puzzle were floating around in her head, but she couldn't find a way to make them fit together.

Finally, she pushed away the work that remained, shoving a few quick, minor forms to complete into her bag to be done either that night or in the morning, and she locked her office, walking as quickly as possible to the lift. There was nothing unusual about her behavior, should she be noticed by anyone. Many employees working a later shift were hasty on their way out, either from a desire to be home and see family, or sheer hunger.

Emma crossed the Atrium toward the Apparition point and she noticed the Death Eater whose name she could not recall once more. She was leaning toward Yardley. This time, he was talking to a man she barely knew but whose name she certainly did: Pius Thicknesse. Thicknesse was a fairly prominent politician, not especially clever, not particularly talented, but very good at the art of empty diplomacy. Anyone reasonably shrewd could see straight through the man, but there were few enough shrewd people in the world that Emma suspected he'd make Minister someday.

The fact that these two men were talking could easily be nothing. After all, many Ministry employees communicated with each other during the course of their work. Something about the way the two men were standing, however, gave Emma pause. She slowed her pace and felt her heartbeat quicken as Thicknesse's eyes glazed over her distant figure lazily. If he saw anything strange about her pace or the fact that she was observing him speaking to the man who might be called Yardley, he gave no change in expression or posture to show it. The Death Eater was not facing, and did not look at her as she passed.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether she should come up with some excuse to get closer, or to follow one of them, to investigate this puzzling scenario. She was expected back at the flat, but she could make an excuse for a brief detour, surely. And something in her gut told her that this was important. Getting closer was a trick that she didn't think she could pull off, but following one of them….

Emma had been walking too slowly, staring too long, and she realized that if Thicknesse looked at her a second time, he might not be so dismissive. Tempting though it was, Emma decided it would be safer to go on her way, be on time to dinner, and send a quick message out to relevant parties about what exactly she had witnessed. They didn't expect her to do everything, and as Severus had warned her, it was best to keep her head down as much as possible. The less known Death Eaters observed her the better. Just in case.

She listened to the hasty rhythm of her heels on the smooth floor of the corridor and she ignored the exciting twisting in her stomach. Sirius had thrown himself into the thick of things without much thought, and Sirius was dead. Remus was right about one thing, she did have people who cared about her, and she didn't want to push her luck.


	43. Favors

Severus Snape sent Emma a letter requesting her presence in Hogsmeade at the Hog's Head. She hated the place. It was an absolute dump, but on the designated Sunday evening, telling Fred that she had to have a work meal with a colleague to keep up appearances, Emma put on a fairly respectable set of robes and Disapparated to Hogsmeade.

The barman seemed to be expecting her, and Emma noticed a man in the corner who was almost certainly in disguise of some sort. His clothes were too fine for the way he kept his hair, and a look in his eyes told her that he thought very highly of himself.

Death Eater.

Just as she entertained the idea of getting a butterbeer to go and leaving, a familiar figure swooped in alongside her and said softly in her ear, "You're late."

She gave him her sweetest smile, not wanting the Death Eater in the corner to think she was somehow dangerous and she said, "Sorry, couldn't find my shoes."

It was a stupid lie, but not something uncommon for some women.

"I've ordered you a drink. Come."

He led her into a private room in the back, one that probably cost him a fair bit more than the drinks, but she did not look behind her as she entered, letting him close the door.

"So what's the story?" she asked as he warded the door.

The room wasn't exactly cozy, but it was homier than the mangy common area. She wondered if the Death Eater on the other side was using a spell or something to attempt to listen in on them, ensure that Snape really was meeting a lover. He waved his wand and lit a fire in the fireplace.

"I've finally managed to seduce you, the object of my attentions," he said wryly, not meeting her eye. "We kill time in here, letting the wards fade naturally. When that begins, we find some activity that is silent as the grave and I let this play."

He pulled out a small box that he held out to her, obviously enchanted. Emma didn't have to ask. It would no doubt make soft, rude sounds when opened, for as long as needed, and then she would be able to leave.

"Lovely," she said sarcastically. "How long until the ward fades?"

"Exactly an hour."

He had thought of everything, so Emma simply picked up the glass of wine he poured for her and sat down in front of the fireplace.

"Albus Dumbledore is the target," she said softly, and Severus actually started at this, frowning at her.

"Do not repeat that," he said as he sat down beside her, firewhiskey in hand. "Not to anyone."

"I'm not completely stupid," she said dryly. "What I can't quite figure is who is doing all the work. Obviously it's on Voldemort's orders, but"

"This is not the place nor time to have this discussion," he said slowly. "Another time."

It was not putting her off forever, so Emma decided she would take it. He was right; this was not the right place to be discussing such things.

"Lupin gave you his book on becoming an Animagus," Severus said after a few minutes of silence. "Have you worked it all out yet, or are you one of those who takes decades to achieve a form?"

Emma perked up. How did he know that?

"Decades?"

"I suspect those who struggle with Transfiguration of living creatures, which can be difficult at high levels," he said dully, "and those who are simply too busy with other projects to devote the proper energy to it. No shame in it, of course. Some of the greatest wizards to achieve a form took decades."

Emma couldn't help feeling a little bit smug as she set down the glass of wine, stepped toward the fireplace, and concentrated her energy on transforming. Any other wizard would have looked impressed, but Severus Snape merely pulled out his wand, scanning her.

"Nearly there, I see," he said lazily. "The fur has the properties of human hair, but you have very nearly accomplished it."

Emma shook the fur in question and transformed back into a human, frowning at him.

"Yes, I did have a sense that I haven't quite completed it, but I hadn't been able to test it while in otter form."

He narrowed his eyes.

"It is very dangerous to attempt transformation alone."

"I wasn't alone," she said airily. "Tien was in the next room."

"So many secrets you keep from your husband," he said, amused. "I've been told that is not the way to have a relationship."

Emma was annoyed that he found the thing so amusing, but he did have a point. Even things that had nothing to do with the war, she was keeping them from Fred. When had all of this started?

With Sirius, she realized. It was when Sirius was flirting with her, and she decided not to mention it to Fred. Ever since then, she had a growing number of things not to tell him, things she even actively lied about. It wasn't Sirius's fault exactly. She made that choice herself. Perhaps Fred would have thought it was funny.

"So tell me," she finally said, "was a lover really the best thing you could think of?"

Severus Snape's lips twisted into a pained expression that was almost like a smile. She preferred his usual face, she decided.

"I had to cover the Ministry and Diagon Alley," he said. "You live in Diagon Alley, you work at the Ministry. No one else gives a sufficient cover to both places."

"And _lover_?"

"It is a fairly innocuous way of involving you without arousing suspicions as to my loyalties or generating undue interest in you," he said simply. "After all, I am a man. I must be expected to behave like one."

Emma supposed that a man attempting to seduce a younger woman was hardly original, which was part of what made it so likely to be true. She would have thought there were prettier women, but then, as he had said, his options were limited by his resources.

"And do you have a story on how you managed to seduce me?" she said, teasing. Severus rolled his eyes, but as she suspected, he had a story prepared.

"Bored with the typical course of your life, intrigued by childish fantasies about a former teacher," – Emma sniggered – "you decided that the risk would be intriguing and the rush of not being able to tell anyone about it was enticing."

Emma glanced at his face in the firelight. From the right angle, in the right light, Severus Snape was not unattractive. He had a striking profile, his eyes were strangely compelling, and his voice was almost hypnotic. He was the youngest male teacher at Hogwarts, and she did wonder if he'd ever had students fantasize about him. Surely someone must have done. For her part, Sirius had been much more attractive, but so much of that was personality. Emma was a sucker for a jokester, always had been. Severus Snape had probably never been much of the jokester type.

She sipped her wine quietly, thoughtfully.

So many questions she could think of to ask the man sitting next to her. Even with their both being in the Order, she hardly had any time to speak to him. Perhaps this wasn't the proper place for most of it, but there were things she could ask, things she could say.

"Katie Bell," she finally said, softly, so quietly she wasn't sure she'd said it out loud for a very long moment. "She's getting better, I suppose, as you said she would, but…almost too slowly." He nodded. "How long do you think it will take?"

He set down his empty firewhiskey glass.

"Difficult to say," he said slowly. "That I know of, she is the first person impacted by that curse who has survived instant death. There has not been a great deal of call for studying it. She has, as I understand it, been making marginal progress, and with luck she should be restored in a matter of months. But I will not sugar coat this. She may never fully recover."

Emma shivered, but she did appreciate that he told her the truth. What that would mean, not fully recovering, Emma wasn't sure, but knowing that it was a possibility made her feel cold all over. To know there was such darkness in the world, such powerful darkness…. That was what they were fighting, essentially. Powerful darkness that threatened everything. It just happened to take the form of a man.

"You don't have to show me," she said softly, "but…if you don't mind, I'd…I'd like to see it."

She felt stupid, not being able to use proper words to express what she wanted, but the request was a strange one, one that she was almost certain he would say no to.

To her surprise, however, he slowly pulled up his left sleeve. Emma was stunned with how dark and angry the black mark looked, especially next to the rest of the pallid flesh of Severus's arm. She had a strange urge to touch it, and an equally strong revulsion to it, and she wondered how he could stand having something so hateful branded onto his skin.

At this point, though, he didn't have much of a choice. Perhaps he got used to it, like people get used to a new pair of glasses, or a new shade for their manicure.

"Try to focus on the changes you need to make," he said softly, and Emma blinked. What was he on about? When he realized she didn't understand he said, "Focus when you transform, on specifics. Thoughts have a great deal more power in magic than most people consider, particularly in Charms and Transfiguration."

He pulled out the box, opening it, resting it on the door. Emma began to blush as she tried not to listen to the sounds emanating from the box. She tried to think about what Severus had said about the power of thought for her Animagus transformation.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I'll try that next time."

Talking might have helped the awkwardness as the box played out its sounds, but neither Emma nor Severus seemed capable of coming up with something to say that would alleviate the uncomfortable situation. Instead, they sat silent, Emma going over in her mind all of the forms she would have to sign that week. She had a brief thought wondering what Severus was thinking about, but she knew he had plenty of things to consider and she would never manage to guess what it was.

Emma twisted a thin cloth napkin in her fingers, staring at the fireplace.

Actually, Fred might find the whole thing rather funny, if she told him about it. There was comedy in the situation by its very nature. This was the sort of thing she wouldn't have minded telling Fred, because it wasn't particularly dangerous, just a favor of sorts for an Order member. But Severus had sworn her to secrecy, so she would be able to tell no one. That did seem to be the way of things, anymore.

When the box ran out, Severus leaned forward and whispered, "You leave first. Smile. Disapparate as soon as you leave the pub."

Emma did as she was told, putting on a smile as she left the room, noticing that the Death Eater was still watching as she left, perhaps studying her, perhaps questioning the whole situation. She kept herself as calm as possible, and as soon as she stood in the open air of Hogsmeade, she Disapparated.

Fred was going over his notes for work when she stepped into the flat, still smiling.

"How was dinner?" he asked.

"Not great," she said honestly. "D'you have any leftovers?"

He set down his notes, smiled at her, and crossed to the kitchen to kiss her cheek before warming up some leftovers and telling her all about his day. And she shoveled food in her mouth to keep from spilling secrets.

Several days later, Emma had one of her few precious days off, and she sat down to breakfast with the twins thinking about what she would do with those free hours.

"D'you want to work in the shop?" Fred suggested, stirring sugar into her tea.

"Do you need me?"

"Not really," he admitted with a shrug. "It's going to be a quiet day, and I expect we'll be overstaffed as it is."

Emma grinned. He just wanted her there.

"I expect I'd just be in the way, then," she said reasonably. "I might drop in for a visit later. I actually thought I might run by St. Mungo's, see how Katie's doing."

"Give her our love," George said darkly.

She nodded and went to get dressed.

For the first time, she wasn't lying when she said she was going to the hospital. She really did want to see how Katie was doing, and she entered St. Mungo's feeling slightly uncomfortable. She didn't like illness or infirmity, and she couldn't handle it when people she cared about weren't well. And she cared about Katie quite a lot.

The welcome witch gave Emma directions to Katie's room. Things had to be bad if she had a room of her own, Emma mused, climbing the stairs to the fourth floor, where she followed the hallway to the private rooms past the wards. Katie's was the very last one in the corridor, a small room with no windows to see in from the corridor. Emma's stomach tightened and twisted from nerves. Summoning all of her courage, she opened the door to the room and saw her friend lying there, paler than Emma had ever seen her, unconscious.

"Oh, hello," a kind woman said, surprised. "Family or Ministry?"

"Ministry," Emma said, frowning. "But…she's a friend of mine."

"I see," the woman said, obviously sympathetic. "I'm afraid she's not in very good shape at the moment." She paused to adjust Katie's sheets. "She spends most of the day unconscious, for her health. It is technically safe to wake her up, but she just screams when we do. Progress from a couple of months ago, when we couldn't even safely wake her."

Emma shivered, moving closer to the bed to look at the deceptively peaceful face.

"She's different," Emma said, touching her friend's chipped nail polish. "I…I don't think I've ever seen her face so clean."

The Healer-in-Training actually laughed, which startled Emma, such a strange sound to hear in the hospital room.

"I was here when they brought her in," the woman said, shrugging. "She wore a fair amount of make up. A lot of girls her age do. Well, I guess you're about her age too, aren't you?" Emma said nothing, staring at this woman. "Anyway, I don't think she really needed it. We had to clean off her face and there hasn't been much call for making it up again."

Emma sat down beside the bed, taking Katie's hand in hers, surprised at how warm it was. It looked like it would be cold. She expected Katie to be cold. At least this was a reminder that she was still alive.

"We're hoping that if we get her to be conscious without screaming, it'll be a few more months of recovery," the Healer-in-Training continued. "Obviously, we don't know when she'll make that sort of progress, but the Healers in charge of her case have a few ideas."

"Good," Emma said absently.

She didn't know what to say to this chatty woman. She could think of no questions to ask. Coming to the hospital was supposed to make her feel better, but she just felt bizarrely empty, staring down at her friend. Katie, the fierce, brave, impossible-to-break Katie Bell, looked so fragile and small in that bed. How close she had been to dying. How easy it would have been for Emma to have lost her altogether.

And the Healers only had vague ideas of how to move forward. And Severus had even said that there were no guarantees that she would heal completely.

That was the answer, of course, she told herself almost bitterly. She would have to ask Severus to take a look at Katie's case, to give the Healers advice, guidance. She knew of no one in the world who understood Dark curses better than Severus Snape, no one more qualified to deal with whatever horrific thing was keeping her friend from living. And after all, he owed her after what she had done for him just a few days ago.

She wouldn't put it that way, but he was a Slytherin. He understood the world in terms of debts, checks and balances, weighing every action. This was something he would understand without her saying it flat-out. And after all, he had hopes for her becoming subtler. Perhaps he would be impressed enough to help her, to help Katie. Whatever the assassin had planned, it wasn't to kill Katie. No one could fault him for bringing her back.

Emma stayed until the Healer-in-Training was done with her duties in the room and sat a little longer in the silence, listening to Katie's smooth, rhythmic breathing.

"You wouldn't recognize me now, Katie," Emma said, forcing a smile as she whispered. "Most days I don't recognize me, either. This war, it's changed us all. I hope it's over soon, I hope it ends and you can wake up and see the better world that comes out when it's over. I'll have something to do with that, whatever it looks like."

Not that her name would be on any plaques or in any books when people looked back on the war, but she knew that even if no one remembered her, what she was doing for Severus and for the Order helped important people to do the things that would be remembered.

She said her goodbyes and went home, the image of Katie's pale, sickly face pasted onto Emma's mind.

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to reader **_**Greek Penguin**_**. Thanks for joining the party! Hope you all like this chapter. I had a lot of fun working on it.**

** -C**


	44. The Unintended

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to reviewer **_**tayluhm94**_**, whose interest and request for a new chapter has spurred on the beginning of this one. May you enjoy it as much as previous chapters!**

** -C**

Emma sat in the Atrium signing some papers to be handed over to other departments. None of it was especially important or secretive, and she liked being out of her office when she could be. Ministry workers and visitors rushed past her on their way to places, and she glanced up at each person who went by, wondering what their story was. Nobody came to the Ministry without a story, and usually an interesting one.

She had just finished the last of her forms when a man sat down across from her, the Death Eater she thought was named Yardley, and her heart began to race. What possible reason did he have to sit there, to look at her? He wasn't even supposed to know who she was.

"You're Emma Norwick, correct?" he asked.

Well, at least he wasn't snooping into her files, if he was using her maiden name. Thank Merlin for small miracles.

"Yes, but I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," she said with a small smile.

He raised his pale eyebrows and said, "Yaxley, Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Not Yardley after all, then, but she hadn't been far off.

"That's a terribly important department these days," she said solemnly. "Of course, I suppose it's usually important, but with how things are."

"Quite," he said.

Emma didn't know what he wanted, but she had a feeling that whatever it was, it didn't spell good things for her future.

"Well, is there something I can do for you, Mr. Yaxley?" she asked. "I'm sure you didn't just stop to chat. I suspect you're a very busy man."

If she just focused on appearing innocent and naïve, not useful, not interesting, not special in any way, then perhaps everything would be alright.

"Dolores wanted me to speak to you," he said, frowning slightly. "She thinks you have…promise."

Emma was supposed to be delight about that sort of thing, young and eager to pleased as she was in the eyes of her employers, so she perked up slightly, trying to tip the corners of her lips into a smile. Hopefully it looked like she was attempting to suppress one.

"Really?" she said softly. "I'm…I…"

Yaxley seemed annoyed, but convinced, and he said, "Don't be too flattered, Miss Norwick. No promotion on the table at the moment. But I think there is a possibility that at some point in the future your department will become…obsolete, and we want to know that you are ambitious enough to head sections that might become relevant. When the time comes."

Her stomach turned as she tried to think of what that would mean. Obviously she needed to stay with the Ministry to continue to be useful to the Order, and she didn't want to get on the bad side of Umbridge or Yaxley.

"I assure you, Mr. Yaxley," Emma said, still trying to look a bit naïve and eager, channeling her inner Percy, "that I am very ambitious and will certainly be open to ways to continue working here at the Ministry…if and whenever such moves should be necessary."

He narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded.

"You are familiar, I think, with Severus Snape," he said softly.

Emma didn't bother hiding her surprise. Of course she was familiar with him, not long out of Hogwarts as she was. But what was he referring to?

"Well, yes, he was my professor."

"Yes," Yaxley said, and as his lips turned to a smirk she realized he had been the one in disguise at the Hog's Head. "Yes he was. You seem like a…sweet kid." The words sounded as if they caused him some level of pain. "Let me just say that I know he's…been paying you attention." Emma tried to school her face to a barely concealed embarrassment and was thrilled when she could feel her cheeks heating up. "Forbidden can be enticing, Miss Norwick, but watch yourself. It often comes with a sting."

He stood, taking his leave of her with polite, stock words of parting and Emma watched him leave.

Although everything was still very vague and nebulous, she had a sense that whatever plans she and others had made, they had just become much more complicated. Her heart pounded as she planned a way to get a message to Severus, to inform him what Yaxley had said, all of it. He was the only person to whom she could give the full report.

She felt, as she packed away her things and left the Ministry, that she was doing something akin to playing with fire, and she needed a bit of expert advice to avoid getting burned. She could hear her heels clicking on the street as she walked quickly, air moving into her wide eyes stinging and drying. She could feel her eyes beginning to water, but it was a minor thought in her mind. She could still hear Yaxley's words as she walked, and two fires seemed to be lit in her stomach. One felt sheer panic. The other was excited, eager almost. Was it wrong for her to enjoy danger this much? If she had known this felt so good, she might have tried out for the Quidditch team, might have joined Fred and George in pranking.

Emma began to pace the flat when she arrived home, her mind racing. She managed to calm herself just enough to send off a coded letter to Severus before she sat down on the kitchen floor, taking deep breaths, clearing her mind, seeing if she could access her Animagus form for something to calm her. She knew it was potentially dangerous to attempt to transform in her present state of mind, so she would simply see if she could access the form mentally, without attempting the transformation.

It was elusive, but she was very close. She could not focus entirely, however, because after a moment the sound of a throat clearing nearby caused her to lose all focus and she opened her eyes, looking up at her husband's confused face.

"Why are you on the floor?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she said, honestly, trying to think of an explanation that wouldn't worry him but wouldn't tell him about her form. "Just…trying meditation."

"Right," he said slowly. He helped her to feet, obviously concerned. "Why are you lying about this?"

Her heart began to race. How was she supposed to wave this off now? He was worried, of course. That was the main source of his pressing her, but he did want to keep pushing, and she had to think of something, because she didn't want him to know her form. She didn't want that burden on him, just in case.

"I think…I think I shouldn't tell you," she said slowly. "Not…not yet."

Fred frowned, obviously concerned.

"Still with the secrets?" he asked, turning away, pain in his voice as he crossed to the window looking out onto the alley. "What happened to us, Emma?"

"Nothing," she said eagerly. "Really, Fred, everything's fine. I know you don't like the secrets, but you know perfectly well that it's the way of things in the Order. Not everybody can share everything they're doing. When you can know, I'll tell you."

He didn't look convinced, and if she were being honest with herself she hoped that by the time everything was over he forgot about most of the questions he had now, because she didn't want to have to explain most of her work for the Order to her husband. The Animagus form, though, she could explain that someday, certainly.

"Love," he said softly, "I feel like I'm losing you some days."

This struck her far more than talk of secrets, talk of missions and the war. She actually felt tears in her eyes as she stepped around to his side and touched the collar of his work shirt with timid hands, hands she thought she had lost long ago. Her fingertips were actually trembling as he looked at her, his own eyes full of pain and questions she could not answer.

"No matter what," she whispered, begging him with her eyes to understand, "no matter what happens you will never, ever lose me, Fred."

Fred just stared at her for a minute, searching her eyes, before nodding slowly and taking her hand. He kissed the tips of each finger before leading her into their bedroom, expression unchanged. She had barely closed the door when he pressed her back against it, kissing her eagerly, hungrily, desperately.

How long had it been since they last kissed like this? Something was always on one of their minds, always distracting them from the moment, from each other. But all Emma could think as he kissed his way down her neck, his fingers fiddling with the front of her robes, was how badly she needed him.

She stepped out of her unfastened robes and pushed Fred backward toward the end of their bed. He was pulling at the buttons of his own shirt as they kissed, yanking the fabric away from his torso, tossing it carelessly aside. He shimmied out of his trousers and she crawled onto the bed, not needing to look over her shoulder to know that his eyes were glued to her body. He crawled after her as soon as he was naked, holding her hips to make her stop her movement away from him.

Neither of them said a word. Neither of them dared. The motions were not new, but they did not feel familiar. Every touch was like a fire in Emma's belly, and the feel of his warm skin on her skin as they found a delicious friction was something she had forgotten she had missed. Her fingers tangled in his silky hair as they kissed, and she could feel his muscles as they did their work.

When the two of them collapsed together in their sheets, too tender and spent to move, Emma closed her eyes, feeling the cool of the pillow behind her head. She tried to calm her breath, her pounding heart, as Fred placed lazy kisses on her collarbone. Both were still to afraid to speak, to ruin the beautiful moment, but Emma's mind was already tracing through all the things she would have to do when they finally got up, showered, went about their day. Would she have to write to Dumbledore? Would she have to reevaluate her latest communiqués from Umbridge? So many things to consider, so many things to do.

Fred was right, things had changed. Both of them had changed.

But unlike Fred, Emma didn't feel that anything had necessarily been lost. They were out of the honeymoon phase, out of their infancy, and they were forced to look at the world without rose tinted spectacles. Perhaps in a different time she would have seen that as a loss, but knowing that it was their best chance to make it through the war alive, she had a hard time seeing it with such a negative view. She wanted to see the world around her as what it was, and take the consequences that brought.

"I love you," Fred finally whispered, breaking the spell silence had brought over them, and Emma shifted, looking at him, smiling slightly.

"I love you, too, darling," she whispered, kissing his nose. "C'mon, let's get dinner going, okay?"

He groaned, but he agreed, and he even said she should shower first, and Emma watched him pull on his clothes and go out to the kitchen with a feeling of melancholy coming over. But nothing lasts forever, she reminded herself, and she pulled herself off of their sheets, shaking her head to jostle it back into the present, focusing on one thing at a time, one day at a time.

The next day, they had an Order meeting, full compliment. Emma sat between Fred and George, not looking down the table at Severus, not looking up the table to where Remus should have been sitting, not letting herself glance at Tonks, who was still in a state. Fred held Emma's hand under the table and she blinked up at Dumbledore, who was letting them all settle in before speaking.

"Thank you," he finally said, his voice tired. Emma could see just a bit of his black, withered fingers peaking from the end of his sleeve. She frowned, wondering if she would ever know what happened to them. "Now, let us begin with the Muggles, Kingsley."

Emma tried to listen to Kingsley's smooth, calming voice, but she was lost in the rhythm of his words, her mind on the note Severus had sent her, asking her to stay behind after the meeting for a brief word. A word with him, or a word with him and Dumbledore? Or Mad-Eye? What would she tell Fred? She still didn't have any idea what to do about sticking around.

"Excellent," Albus said softly. "Excellent, Kingsley." She jolted slightly, looking around at the relieved faces surrounding her. Good news, whatever it was. She almost wished she'd been paying attention; good news was so hard to come by these days. "Tonks, the Auror office."

It was easier to focus on Tonks's words, if only because her tone was so strained and unlike herself that Emma listened to every inflection, looking for clues on Tonks's state of mind. It couldn't be easy, not knowing where Remus was, or if he was safe, but Emma knew that wherever he was, he was probably thinking the same things about Tonks.

"We're stretched beyond our means, still," Tonks said, a bit bitterly. "It was one thing for Fudge to underfund us, desperate as he was to believe that the war wasn't happening, but Scrimgeour knows better, and he came out of our office."

"But they can't hire just anybody," Lee said reasonably. "I mean, I know it's more than being undermanned, but one of the big problems is being undermanned. And the Aurors can't just hire because they need more people. They need to pass stringent exams. This isn't the time to lax on that as far as I'm concerned."

"Fair enough," Tonks said with a nod. "But the problem is, I happen to know of several people who passed the tests but were turned down from the department."

Mad-Eye sat forward at this, frowning.

"What do you mean?"

"Muggle-borns," Tonks clarified. "I know they passed the tests. I administered two of them, Dawlish administered the rest. Dawlish doesn't know why they were turned down, but I think it came straight from the head of Magical Law Enforcement. He's been dipping his hands into the Auror Office a lot lately."

Emma stiffened, recalling what Yaxley had said about her department not being there in future. And if he was keeping Muggle-borns from joining the Auror Office…

The meeting droned on, and Albus cleared his throat.

"One last thing. Emma, Alastor, Severus, I need to speak with you before you go, privately." Fred tightened his hold on Emma's hand, obviously not wanting to leave without her, and Albus smiled, knowing. "Don't worry, Fred, she will be home safe in a matter of minutes."

Fred did not seem so sure of this, but he kissed the corner of her mouth and gave her a look that said quite plainly that he expected her soon. Emma watched the rest of the Order file out of Sirius's kitchen and she shifted in her seat, not looking at the three men at the table with her.

"Yaxley," Albus said softly. "He seems to be at the root of all our problems."

"I know little of his mission," Severus said coldly. "He and Lestrange have been following me, for Bellatrix. And Yaxley's job at the Ministry has to do with Muggle-borns, and a man named Pius Thicknesse."

Emma jumped slightly, looking up at them.

"Thicknesse," she said, "is a mid-level politician. Harmless, a bit squeamish, very wishy-washy. Perfect for jumping on any bandwagon he thinks will get him public and political favor."

Mad-Eye snorted and said, "I recall the man. He was just getting started at the end of the first war. Very ambitious, but you don't think that would entice him to join the Death Eaters, do you?"

"I do not think he has," Severus said slowly.

"No," Emma said, shaking her head, frowning at Severus. "No, I think he's being controlled."

"Imperius," Severus said, nodding.

"A puppet," Albus said solemnly. "I see. Well, we will consider that for when the time arises. What concerns me most is Yaxley's interest in Emma."

Yes, this bothered Emma as well, and she shifted slightly, not speaking, barely breathing. The men considered her for a long, tense moment. Then Mad-Eye said, "She has been duly vigilant. I trust I need not remind you, Norwick, that this vigilance must continue?"

"No, sir," she breathed.

There was a brief discussion of the pros and cons of Emma's being noticed by someone of moderate importance, both to the Death Eaters and in the Ministry. When they were dismissed, Severus lingered in the kitchen, and Emma took this as a hint that she should as well. As soon as they were alone, he said softly, "He was the man in the pub."

Emma said nothing for a moment, wondering if Yaxley's interest in getting her in a department with him was less about utilizing someone he thought was ambitious enough to stay loyal and more about trying to manipulate someone he thought was having an affair with Snape. And what if it were the latter? What would that meant for her life, her career, her marriage?

"What do I do?" she finally asked.

"For the moment, nothing," Snape said softly. "When I know more of his intentions, I can make plans. I will inform you." She nodded and stood to go, but he said her name as she reached the bottom of the stairs and she turned to see him staring down at the table as he said, "I apologize. I had not foreseen this."

She wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that it was fine, but it wasn't fine and it was his fault and she knew he would simply despise such empty words. So she walked away without a word.


	45. Deduction

Emma found herself in Borgin and Burke's for the third time that week and she frowned as she went over the store sales list. It had obviously been tampered with, but she wouldn't be able to take the ledger into evidence, and there had been so many alterations that it would be impossible to say that it was the pieces she was investigating that had been removed. So frustrating.

The bell on the door tinkled, announcing an actual customer and Borgin turned to the door expectantly.

Emma looked up to see Yaxley striding forward, frowning at the sight of her.

"Ah, Mr. Yaxley," Borgin said, a little too quickly. "If you are here about the crystal, Miss Norwick is examining the files already."

"Hardly," Yaxley said, frowning slightly.

He understood Borgin's message. The Ministry was evaluating the ledger and now was not a good time for business. Emma just smiled sweetly at Yaxley in hopes that she seemed naïve enough not to decode this rather-thinly-veiled message.

"You have other cases to discuss?"

"It is an inventory matter."

There was an opening, Emma realized. She smiled sweetly at Borgin this time and said, "If my presence would be distracting, Mr. Borgin, I could always examine this ledger in your office."

Her suggestion produced the desired effect, as neither man was comfortable leaving her alone in Borgin's office. At least they seemed to believe in her sincerity, however.

"I think, Miss Norwick," Yaxley said, "since you were here first, I will take Mr. Borgin to his office to discuss matters with him. The…investigation is a rather…sensitive one."

"Oh, of course," she said, smiling and nodding. Emma leaned over the ledger as the two men went into Borgin's office and she held her breath, wondering if they would have blocked her from listening in, if they would have thought to take such measures.

Fishing Extendable Ears out of her bag was a difficult, complicated task. Emma bit her lip, trying to be graceful about it, not draw any attention to herself. When she finally dug them out and pressed it to her ear, tossing the other end toward the office door, she felt more than a little bit flustered.

"…have it soon," Borgin said when she calmed enough to listen properly.

"Not too soon," Yaxley said. "Not urgently. But I would anticipate in the next few months I will need to have it on hand."

"And you have no idea how long you might need to use it for?"

"As long as is necessary, Borgin."

Emma held her breath. It sounded like an ingredient or potion, and she wondered why Severus wasn't the one dealing with it.

"Well, that does vary quite a lot depending on the recipient. But you've suggested a pliant subject. I would estimate perhaps four months, eight on the long side of things."

"Eight?"

"Well, Mr. Yaxley, these sorts of altering agents do take time to work. No doubt you can make it work faster, and the less of a fight she puts up-"

"Indeed."

Emma continued scanning the ledger lazily. The words on the page hardly mattered. She knew the evidence she needed was long gone. What Yaxley was saying was infinitely more important, although she understood very little. The key thing was that whoever the target was, it wasn't Harry. This altering agent – which could be a great number of things – was intended for someone else, probably some other Order member.

Not that this narrowed the field significantly. After all, there were half a dozen female Order members Emma could think of just off the top of her head, all of them involved in undercover work on a semi-regular basis. She was hoping for more, some clue that would give her some idea of who the intended target was, but the men then began haggling prices and Emma decided that the usefulness of the Ears had run its course. She quickly balled them up again and stuck them in the bottom of her bag, turning back to the ledger, holding her breath. Any moment the two men would come back into the main shop and she didn't want them to even suspect that she'd been listening.

About five minutes later, they emerged.

"That was very helpful," Yaxley said. "I will contact you when I have further details to confirm."

Emma cleared her throat and smiled, knowing that they knew she was still there, that they were speaking in protracted terms for her benefit.

"Mr. Borgin, I have finished with the ledger for today," she said.

"And you did not find what you were looking for."

Not a question. He knew perfectly well that it wasn't there. She wanted to claw his eyes out, but for the benefit of both men she just smiled her sweetest smile and shook her head.

"Well, Miss Norwick, if I come across any relevant information I shall be sure to pass it along."

She hated knowing that the scumbag was lying through his teeth at her, but so it went, unfortunately. She simply nodded, wondering if she should try to leave before Yaxley or at the same time, see if he would give her any more information if she asked the right questions.

Emma decided that until she knew more about his intentions, it was probably safer to have as little contact with the man as possible, so she hurried outside and ducked around the corner, presumably to Disapparate. Instead, she lingered, waiting to see how long Yaxley stayed inside the shop. Had they truly finished their business, or had they needed something in the shop?

Yaxley stepped out of the shop a moment later, looking both ways down the alley, perhaps to see if Emma had Disapparated. She held her breath, hiding in the shadows, praying he didn't see her. And then she saw him turn and walk, not toward Diagon Alley, but deeper down Knockturn Alley.

He had more business to attend to, it seemed.

She wanted to follow him, to learn more, but she didn't have the time. Instead, she went straight back to the Ministry, settling into her office, where she should have immediately amended her report to include the lack of information from Borgin and Burke's. Instead, Emma made certain her door was locked and began sifting through Arthur Weasley's old files, everything he had on known Death Eaters.

Of particular interest was in multiple raids of Malfoy Manor. He kept detailed notes of the interior, an inventory of items – both confiscated and searched – and profiles on the family members. The last search of the home had taken place just after Lucius Malfoy had been taken to Azkaban, just before Arthur had transferred to his new position.

Emma settled down with the file, flipping through for relevant information – or anything that might be relevant.

She hadn't known Draco Malfoy in school, and had never met Lucius Malfoy. She had observed the boy, known who his associates were, known the nature of his interactions with Harry Potter. From what she had observed, he was a self-impressed, spoiled, and not especially talented student. He was a decent flier, had general aptitude for spellwork, but much of that could be due to early privilege and not necessarily and particular skill.

Emma also seemed to recall that he was a bit of a coward. Draco had hidden behind much larger students, and even the sometimes-unfair attention of Professor Snape, in order to get the upper hand. She tried to ignore the obvious feud between the Weasleys and the Malfoys. This was not relevant to her search.

In her mind she could hear the voice of Severus Snape telling her to convince Harry that Draco could not have given Katie the necklace. Harry was certain, in spite of what he had been told by his professors. If Emma had not been told expressly to assure him Draco had not given the necklace, Emma would never have suspected the boy.

But as Minerva had apparently told Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Draco Malfoy had not been in Hogsmeade at the time of the incident, so why did Severus bother having Emma make such assurances?

She frowned, trying to piece together all she knew of Draco Malfoy. Someone like that rarely did his own handiwork. He certainly couldn't have snuck the necklace in and out of the castle, not with the new protections and security checks. And since she knew it was purchased at Borgin and Burkes, meaning he had to have bought it well before the Hogsmeade trip in question, it must have spent time in the castle with him, if he'd done the handoff.

On another note, she could recall vividly the poison that had nearly killed Ron, the poison Hermione had pointed out was almost certainly connected to Katie's accident. Slughorn had certain students he kept as favorites, according to Harry. She knew that Harry and Hermione were among them. It would not hurt to get a list of students in that group.

From what she knew of Slughorn, he wasn't an entirely sensible man, but he wasn't stupid. If a student had given him a beverage that was poisoned, he would have mentioned it in the inquiry. He might have even mentioned it to Harry at the time of the incident. Wherever he got the wine, he clearly did not think of the source as threatening, or even potentially guilty. And even Severus had all but said that Slughorn had not poisoned the wine himself.

Because he was initially intending to give the wine as a gift. Ron's ingestion of it was just one of those things. Slughorn would not poison wine and then forget he'd poisoned it and make to ingest it with students.

The intended recipient had been Dumbledore. So if the actual guilty party in both cases was Draco Malfoy and the intended victim of both haphazard schemes was Albus Dumbledore, then Draco Malfoy was, it followed, trying to kill Albus Dumbledore.

And since he would never take such a drastic, bold, and even stupid move on his own convictions, Emma had to suppose that Draco Malfoy was not acting on his own behalf. It followed, then, that Draco Malfoy – in spite of still being in school – was a Death Eater.

Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. Albus knew this. Severus knew this. And in spite of the fact that she couldn't figure out how he'd done it, Draco was rather carelessly attempting to kill Albus Dumbledore. She felt adrenaline feeding through her, a light sensation of panic.

There were pieces missing, things she couldn't remember, things she couldn't fit together. Harry had said something important at Christmas, but she could no longer recall it. And there was still the question of how Draco had accomplished the attempts, when she knew it was virtually impossible for him to have physically done so.

She traced her fingers over the files, trying to piece together what it was she had missed. There was something obvious, she could feel. Something staring her right in the face, but she couldn't seem to see it. With a sigh, she glanced at the clock. As tempting as it was to continue to stare at old files, it seemed to be getting her no further, and she had a mountain of paperwork to deal with. Emma closed up the file and carefully stowed it away in the cabinet.

However, as soon as work was done, Emma made a quick run to Grimmauld Place to report her run-in with Yaxley to Mad-Eye, who she suspected was actually sleeping at Grimmauld Place to accommodate both his own personal safety standards and his intense obligations for the Order.

"What should I do?" she asked.

"Nothing," he growled. "Nothing until Albus or Severus or I tells you otherwise."

She should have expected as much, she realized, but Emma still felt that pulsing adrenaline that she associated with missions, and she toyed with the idea of sitting down with Severus, confronting him on her issues with the puzzle of Draco Malfoy.

Emma knew she couldn't do that, that either he wouldn't or couldn't answer, and she would walk away with none of her questions any closer to being answered. But she felt a very firmly that she needed to find out her answers, any answers. She sent a quick message that she was going to be late, doing some things for the Order, to Fred. And then she Disapparated to Hogsmeade.

She walked up the high street, frowning to herself. Where exactly had Katie been when she was nearly killed by the necklace? She didn't recall the information being in any of the reports, but it must have been somewhere on Katie's usually Hogsmeade route, as Leanne hadn't thought it important to mention where they were, or where they had been going.

Emma turned her back on the castle in the distance, trying to think of where Katie might have been.

Her feet led her down the familiar path to Honeydukes, and Emma smiled absently to herself as she remembered Fred taking her to Honeydukes seventh year, their fingers intertwined. She could almost smell the sweetshop even as she was still approaching it.

But stepping inside, Emma realized that this could not be related to her search. Nothing seemed off in the shop, nothing out of place. She fought the temptation to buy a chocolate bar and left the shop as quietly as possible.

Where Katie would have gone then was the tricky part. Had she been with Angelina, Alicia, Lee, Emma, and the Twins she would likely have gone to Zonko's, but as Emma recalled, Leanne hated Zonko's. Katie had never been especially fond of it, either.

Gladrag's, perhaps?

Emma stepped into the clothing shop, browsing the racks without really looking at anything, paying closer attention to the shop owner. Nothing seemed strange, nothing out of place, although Emma had not spent much time in the store as a student. She had never been one to spend money on clothes, unlike Katie.

After dodging an eager salesperson, Emma walked out onto the street once more, frowning around at the shops, the post office, all the things students marveled over. Where would Katie have gone next?

Lunch, probably.

Emma paced to the Three Broomsticks, stepping into the warmth of the pub, frowning as she sat down in the corner, next to the table she and her friends used to occupy. Even though the pub was much the same as it had always been, the aura of the place was certainly impacted by the war. Everywhere felt different from when she had been at Hogwarts.

"Emma Norwick," Rosmerta said, smiling at Emma. "What can I get you?"

"Butterbeer, I suppose," Emma said, frowning still. "How have things been here in the village, Madam Rosmerta?"

"As well as can be expected, with the war," Rosmerta said darkly. "I'll be right back with that butterbeer."

Emma nodded, still looking around at the patrons while she waited. People didn't look especially jumpy, but she supposed the more squeamish patrons didn't leave their homes for anything unnecessary. She did think that it would have been busier, given a different set of circumstances. Unlike when Sirius Black first escaped from Azkaban, though, Rosmerta didn't seem too troubled by this.

Perhaps her experience with the first war had prepared her for the drop in business. Things were only bound to get worse, Emma supposed, when the Death Eaters stopped hiding in the shadows. It was already bad, not knowing whom to trust, not knowing who was working for whom.

"There you are," Rosmerta said, setting down the butterbeer. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Emma nodded, deciding it would be perhaps counterproductive to ask Rosmerta questions about the day, especially because Emma knew that Katie hadn't been inside when it happened.

Emma sipped her butterbeer, running through the reports she had read in her mind. Leanne had definitely mentioned that they had gone to the Three Broomsticks, that Katie had been strange since…since…since she had used the toilet. But that wasn't helpful.

Because Draco Malfoy was neither physically present nor female. He wasn't hiding in the women's toilet for the first Hogwarts student to enter. It would make more sense for Draco to be hiding out in the men's toilet in the first place. Less likely to draw attention to himself.

Which mean that whoever had cursed Katie had been able to blend in where they were, which mean female. Draco Malfoy had some female accomplice, someone who had at the very least handed the necklace off to Katie and Imperiused her, which suggested not a passive accomplice, if they were willing to use Unforgivables.

Draco hadn't been especially close to females at school that Emma recalled, excepting that nitwit, Parkinson. Even if the girl was cleverer than she looked and capable of such a thing, Emma didn't think she would do it, even for Draco. The girl was a classic Slytherin in the sense that she kept herself out of obvious trouble and sucked up to the highest bidder. She wouldn't break such heavy laws in school, especially in a place where she might been seen.

Emma finished her butterbeer, trying to think her way through the puzzle, but although she felt closer, she knew there was something she was missing, something obvious she was still overlooking. And she felt as though it was right in front of her face and she still couldn't see it.

She decided it was time to get back to Fred, to have dinner, to maybe get some work done before bed. She paid at the bar and Rosmerta frowned at her slightly.

"Are you alright?" Rosmerta asked. "You seem out of sorts."

"Oh, just looking for something," Emma said sadly. "But I don't think I'm going to find it here."

"Nothing I can help you with?"

"Oh, no," Emma said, frowning. "No, I'm not looking for anything you'd be able to help me find. But thanks for the butterbeer."

Rosmerta said some basic words of parting, but Emma was already not listening, desperate to get home.


End file.
